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teddy06writes · 3 years

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The Phantom Of The Opera AU

requested by this anon: “Okay so I know you’re a musical kid so you have probably listened to/heard of Phantom of the Opera. Picture this: Dream as the Phamtom x Fem!reader as Christine x Sapnap as Raul”

Dream x Fem!reader and Sapnap x fem!reader (with dream as the phantom and sapnap as Raul)

trigger warnings: death, dream being a low key creeper, maybe some swears, my general lack of knowledge of this musical

premise: Phantom AU, not neccicarily the full story, its mainly what I’ve seen/read/listened to that I think is important, and like eight of the songs. Ummm, I feel like the summary above is enough for you to get the general idea.

(y/l/n)- your last name

“blep” regular talking

“Belp” singing

When things are in counterpoint, regular text will be (y/n), (text in parenthesis is sapnap), and {bracketed text is Dream}

if you, like me are unfamilliar with the story, this is the summary that arrived in my inbox last night (thank you so much to the person who sent that by the way, it really helped)

“So basically phantom of the opera is a love triangle between 3 people, the Phantom (P) x Christine (C) x Raul (R). C and R were childhood friends until R had to move away. C grew up in the Opera house with her dad (deceased) as a music writer. C grows up getting “private” singing lessons from P ( he is literally talking to her through a vent ((Among Us omg)) or something idk). Fast forward into the future to present day. C is a ballerina at the opera and one day, the phantom makes the set malfunction so that the lead female opera singer (she’s a jerk. Forgot her name) can’t preform and C has to preform as the lead instead. Coincidentally, the night Christine sings as the lead is the day R comes to see her show and R is like “ooWooga she be fine now ig”. R and C catch up after the show and R goes away for a minute and then P is like “aight C imma kidnap you for a sec with no purpose whatsoever to the plot except for a cool song” and then C returns to her normal life ig. P them sends stuff to the people in charge of the Opera saying “ayo C be pretty fine, let her be the lead again” the people in charge of the opera were like “nah fam, let’s have the person who was supposed to be the lead be the lead”. Upset by this, during the show, P broke the chandelier and it fell into the audience. C is like “I love you uwu” R is like”let’s get engaged” C is like “let’s keep it a secret so the crazy P guy doesn’t find out” and little did they know during that conversation P was hiding and overheard everything and is now sad boi hours. A masquerade happens and P shows up like “ayo I heard you trynna steal my boo” and R is like “nah she my boo” and they duel or whatever. Idk how it transitions to this but the Opera runs another show and they make C the lead to not upset P. However, during a love song (Past the point of no return, it literally slaps), C realizes that the person singing isn’t the original actor, it is P! And then P straight up kidnaps C after the song, takes her to his lair and is like “boo you gotta marry me or I destroy the opera house with everyone inside it” C is like “fine ig” P takes off his mask and reveals he is hiding burn marks and he kisses C and C kisses back. P is like” my mom never even kissed me” and P let’s C go, telling her to go marry R... or you can just watch this video lmao https://youtu.be/4a5nahw3zi8″

On that note, here we go:

{that only goes for the final scene where its all three, it varies otherwise}

{Things I have learned while preparing this story, 1. the actual phantoms name is Erik, like what a nerd, 2. he’s also not actually a ghost??? He’s literally just some creeper who lives in an opera house screwing with people; also yes Eret is the strict lady who yells at everyone and talks to the phantom, deal with it}

{pls send me more musical au asks I really liked doing this, even if it took me a while}

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The ravenous applause of the audience seemed to echo in your ears, even after you had left the stage.

You’re debut as the female lead in Hannibal had been a smashing success, and as the rest of the chorus girls backstage were saying, it was all thanks to the Phantom scaring Hannah off.

Niki practically ran up to you from the rehearsal room, “(y/n) that was incredible!”

You grinned, “Oh I feel like I’m floating Niki! Thank you for volunteering me for the role.”

“Don’t thank me, Thank whoever's giving you those lessons,” She bumped her hip against yours, grinning cheekily, “And if what the girls are saying is true you’ll have to thank him for getting Hannah out of here.”

You chuckled, but before you could say anything else Madame Eret was approaching, knocking the end of their cane of the ground, “Miss Nihachu, you are a dancer are you not?”

Niki nodded.

“Then get back to rehearsal,” he waited until Niki hurried off to turn to you, “He is most pleased with your performance, here.”

You took the note from him, reading over it quietly, “Red scarf..... the attic.... little lotte?”

She simply shrugged, leaving you to turn and head up your dressing room.

As you changed out of your costume from the show you couldn’t help but hum the song that had earned the most applause, “Think of me, think of me of me fondly, when we’ve said goodbye.”

Reaching around you found your dressing gown, pulling it on and tying up the front, “Remember me, once and a while. Please, promise you’ll try...”

Your words faded off as your sat down at your vanity, beginning to brush out your hair.

“Where is your red scarf Miss (y/l/n)? I hope you haven’t lost it. Not after all the trouble I went through to retrieve it for you.”

You turned to see a tall dark hair man standing in the doorway, a grin spreading across your face as he continued, “I was only 14 and soaked to the bone...”

“Because you ran into the sea to fetch my red scarf!” You exclaimed, jumping up and flinging your arms around him excietedly, “Sapnap! How I’ve missed you!”

He chuckled, pulling away, and offering you a single red rose, “(y/n)... Little Lotte let her mind wander...”

“You remember that too?” You asked with a giggle.

Sapnap smiled and kept singing, “Little Lotte thought: am I fonder of dolls,”

“Or of goblins or shoes?” You joined in, “Or of riddles of frocks, or chocolates.”

“Those picnics n the attic...” He reminisced.

You closed your eyes, remembering those long ago days, “Father playing the violin.”

“As we read each other those dark stories of the north.”

“No what I like best, little Lotte said, is when I’m asleep in my bed,” You sang, “And the angel of music sings songs in my head!”

“The angel of music sings songs in my head.” He repeated softly.

You smiled at him, an excited fond feeling forming in your stomach as you sank back into your chair, “Father said, when I am in heaven child I will send the angel of music to you. Well now father is dead, Sapnap. And I have been visited by the angel of music.”

“Well that is very evident,” He chuckled, taking your hands, “Your performance was wonderful. And now, we shall go to supper.”

“Oh- sapnap I can’t, the angle of music is very strict.”

He didn’t seem to understand the urgency in your voice as he laughed again, “Well I shant keep you up late.”

“No- Sapnap, things have changed-”

“You have to change,” He interrupted, “And I have to grab my hat. Two minutes little lotte.”

As he went out the door you cried after him, “Sapnap! Thing have changed Sapnap!”

But he was out of earshot, and the voice that had become so familiar to you was booming, “Insolate boy! This Slave of fashion basking in your glory! Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing my triumph!”

“Angel I hear you! Speak, I listen! Stay by my side and gude me!” You begged up to the ceiling, “Angel my soul was weak! Forgive me! Enter at last master!”

“Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in the shadow I hide, look at your face in the mirror, I am their inside!”

The voice sounded closer now, and you couldn’t help but look around, “Angel of music! Hide no longer!”

You turned again, finding yourself face to face with what seemed like a mask, floating in your mirror, “Come to me, strange angel!”

“I am your angel! Come to me angel of music!”

A shadowy figure seemed to appear behind the smiling mask, a hand outstretched to you. In a daze you stood, grabbing his hand and allowing him to lead you away down a dark pathway.

“Who’s voice is that?” Sapnap asked, knocking on the now closed door, “(y/n) who’s in there?”

“Come with me angel of music!” Dream, the Phantoms voice echoed again.

“(y/n)!”

“In sleep he came to me, the voice which calls to me and speaks my name!” You moved quietly through the passages, following Dream, “And Do I dream again? for now I find, the phantom of the opera is there, inside my mind!”

“Sing once again with me our strange duet! My power over you grows stronger yet! And though you turn from me to look behind, the phantom of the opera is there! Inside your mind!” He sang, turning back to make sure you were following once more.

The walls of the tunnel seemed to widen, and you could almost make out an empty candle lit space.

You reached out, fingers almost brushing the edge of his cloak, “Those who have seen your face draw back in fear! I am the mask you wear..”

“It’s me they hear...”

As you emerged into a cross roads of the tunnels, you sang in tandem, “Your (my) spirit and your (my) voice in one combined, the phantom of the opera is there, inside your (my) mind!”

He helped you into the boat that waited in one tunnel, before casting off, propelling the boat down the slow moving current, “In all your fantasies, you always knew the man and mystery...”

“Were both in you....” You sang softly as the boat came to dock in a wide chamber.

Slowly you climbed out of the boat after him, looking around the dank space, and at the organ in the corner.

Dream pulled off his cloak, “And in this labyrinth where the night is blind..”

“The Phantom of the opera is there! Inside my mind......”

As the people downstairs argued, you tried to think over what had happened. Was it a dream? It didn’t seem like it, but still, a man appearing in her looking glass? Taking her away and singing words of praise, words of love, words that made nearly no sense now that it was day, and a haze covered your memory.

The one thing that remained clear was the monster she had found beyond the mask.

All too soon it seemed you were being rushed into rehearsals, being told you no longer had a speaking role, as Hannah had returned, and was back to her diva ways.

Rehearsals that would normally drag on seemed to go quicker now, and soon you and the rest of the girls were getting ready for the performance.

“This is ridiculous,” Niki muttered as she adjusted her costume, “You should be playing the duchess, not Hannab.”

“Hannah is the featured soprano. She’s always the lead.” You retorted.

“But how will Sapnap know to look for you in the chorus?” Niki teased.

You elbowed her, laughing lightly, “Shut up. Besides I doubt the phantom would let him see me again.”

The show had gone well, at least until the fifth scene.

All the music stopped abruptly as a voice boomed, “Did I not instruct that box five was to be left empty?”

“He’s here: The Phantom Of The Opera!” Niki cried from offstage.

Your head jerked up to turn and look at the audience, “It’s Dream!”

“Your part is silent, you toad!” Hannah snapped.

From somewhere up in the audience Dream frowned, “A toad Madame? Perhaps it is you who is the toad...”

Hanna opened her mouth to continue on her script, but no sound seemed to come out, save for what was close the a croak.

The men who had bought the opera house, Wilbur and Tommy were coming rushing down from their box, “Ladies and gentlemen we apologize! The performance will continue in ten minutes time, with Miss (y/l/n) as the duchess!”

Tommy nodded as Wilbur finished, “And for now, we will give you the ballet, from act three of tonight's show!”

The ballet didn’t last long, as when you returned to the wings dressed for the new role you had been given, someone let out a horrified scream.

“What the-”

You were cut off as you looked up to see Shlatt, the stagehand in charged of the curtains, hanging from the rigging, a noose fully tightened around his neck.

“Ladies and gentlemen remain calm! It was just an accident- remain calm!” Someone shouted.

Through the darkness you could make out Dream’s menacing figure, the smiling mask watching you threateningly as you clamped your hand over your mouth to stop the scream that had ripped at your throat.

“(y/n)? (y/n) are you alright?” Sapnap had run down onto the stage in all the chaos.

“We- we have to get out of here,” You choked, grabbing his hand, “We aren’t safe here.”

He didn’t seem to understand the reason behind your panic, but even so he offer you his arm, “Lets leave then.”

Twenty minutes later you ended up in an empty park, the panic that filled your chest not yet fading as Sapnap asked, “Why have you brought me here?”

“We can’t go back there!” You exclaimed.

“But we must return.” He gripped your hands, “Darling their bound to be missing you.”

You shook your head, “Sapnap- He’ll kill you! His eyes will find us there!”

“(y/n), don’t say that! It’s okay (y/n), it’s okay!”

You looked up into the darkened sky, “No it’s not- no it’s not- Those eyes that burn!”

“Don’t even think it!” He cried desperately.

You couldn’t tell whether you were trembling from fear, or from the cold, as you sang, “And if he has to kill a thousand men....”

“Forget this waking nightmare!” Sapnap insisted.

“....The phantom of the opera will kill.” You sang distractedly.

He gripped your shoulders, “This phantom is a fable, (y/n), believe me!”

“And kill again....” You shuddered at the idea of Dream doing anything to Sapnap.

Both of you sang, “God who is this man, who hunts to kill? (this mask of death?)

“I can’t escape him!” You cried.

He shook his head, “Whose voice is it you hear...”

“...I never will!”

“With every breath?”

His grip on your shoulders tightened, pulling you closer to him as you both sang, “And in this labyrinth where light is blind, the phantom of the opera is there, inside my (your) mind!”

“There is no Phantom of the Opera!”

“Sapnap- I’ve been there, inside his world of never ending light! To a world where daylight dissolves into darkness, darkness! Sapnap I’ve seen him!” You cried. “Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape that face? So distorted, disformed it was hardly a face! in the darkness, darkness. But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound in that night there was music in my mind And through music my soul began to soar! And I heard as I'd never heard before!”

“What you had was a dream and nothing more!”

You could hardly look up at him, “yet in his eyes was all the sadness in the world! Those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore!”

“(y/n), (y/n)!” Sapnap exclaimed.

“.....(y/n)......” A different voice seemed to cry into the night.

You gasped, pressing yourself against Sapnap, “What was that?”

He hugged you tightly, before pulling back and singing gently, “No more talk of darkness, forget these wide eyed fears. I’m here, and nothing can harm you, my words will warm and calm you.”

You relaxed into his grip, listening to his quiet voice, “Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears, I’m here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you.”

“Say you love me, every waking moment. Turn my head and talk of summer time,” You looked up at him, biting your lip, “Say you need me now and always, promise me that all you say is true, that's all I ask of you.”

“Let me be your shelter, let me be your light, you are safe, no one will find you. Your fears are far behind you.” He assured you, smiling softly.

“All I want is freedom, a world with no more night. And you to always be beside me, to hold me and to hide me.” You admitted.

Sapnap’s smile grew wider, “Then say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you need me here, beside you. Anywhere you go let me go too, (y/n), that's all I ask of you.”

“Say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time,” You repeated, “Say the word, and I’ll follow you.”

“Share each day with me, each night, each morning.” You sang together as he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours.

“Say you love me?”

He smiled, whispering, “You know I do.”

“Love me- that's all I ask of you.” You both sang, before he leaned in to gently press a kiss to your lips, “Any where you go, let me go too. Love me- thats all I ask of you.”

Sapnap kissed you again, before pulling away, “We could go anywhere- we could be married! You would marry me, yes?”

“Oh, yes, Sapnap, yes I would. If you’d have me.” You nodded, eagerly.

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You couldn’t help but giggle, before turning back toward the direction of the opera house, “I must go back, they’ll wonder where I am. Wait for me Sapnap!”

“(y/n), I love you!” He exclaimed.

“Wait for me, Sapnap. Order your finest horses and being waiting by the door.” You could go back, and continue working at the opera house, there was nothing left for you to fear while Sapnap was there.

“And soon you’ll be beside me!” He chuckled.

You grinned, “To guard me and too guide me!”

Sapnap offered you his arm again, and you headed off out of the park, toward the opera house.

Slowly, Dream slinked from the shadows where he had watched the proposal, “I gave you my music, made your song take wing. And now your repaid me, denied and betrayed me.”

He groaned running a hand through his hair, “He was bound to love you, when he heard you sing. (y/n)- oh (y/n)-”

He was cut off by the sounds of your voices drifting down the street, Say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time, Say the word, and I’ll follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning.”

Dream’s hands flew to his ears, desperate to block out the sounds- he had been so sure that you could’ve loved him, but now Sapnap was stealing you away.

“You will curse the day you did not do, all that the phantom asked of you!” He bellowed.

The following weeks at the opera house were a blur of panic masked by busyness, Wilbur and Tommy refusing to let the disaster of the chandelier falling from keeping the company from working on their next performance.

You kept on working, the ring on the chain Sapnap had given you around your neck helping you to feel safe, even as the chorus girls cited the Phantom for the cause of all the distress.

Now you were back in your dressing room, getting ready for dinner with Sapnap.

“Wander child, so lost, so helpless,” A soft voice seemed to drift down from no where, “Yearning for my guidance.”

You looked up at the ceiling, “angel or father? Friend or phantom? Who is it their staring?”

“Have you forgotten your angel?” The voice murmured, Dream appearing once again in your mirror.

You turned to him, almost in a trance, “angel, oh, speak, what endless longings, echo in this whisper.”

Sapnap, having arrived to the opera house appeared in the door, watched as you moved toward the phantom.

“Too long you’ve wandered the winter...” Dream continued to sing, hand outstretched to you.

“Once again she is his.” Sapnap sang, as you started to cross the room toward the mirror where the phantom stood.

“...far from my far reaching eyes.”

“Wildly my mind beats against you....” You sang, transfixed.

Behind the mask Dream grinned, “You resist. Yet your soul obeys.”

“Once again she returns, to the arms of her angel. Angel or demon? Still he calls her, luring her back from the grave. Angel or dark seducer? Who are you strange angel?” Sapnap sang, again, more to himself than you or Dream.

Dream beckoned you forward again, “I am your angel of music, come to me angel of music!”

“Angel of darkness, cease this torment!” Sapnap exclaimed, moving into the room properly and drawing attention to himself.

Dream unbothered, continued to sing, “I am your angle of music! Come to me angel of music!”

“(y/n), (y/n) listen to me! Whatever you may believe- this thing, this man is not your father!” Sapnap yelled, “(y/n)! Let her go! For gods sake let her go!”

Jarred by his sudden yell, you turned, the trance broken, “Sapnap...”

Dream, unimpressed, began to clap, deadpanning, “Bravo monsieur. Such spirited words.”

“No more tricks monsieur!” Sapnap yelled, stepping forward to put himself between you and Dream.

“Oh, but that's not any fun. Why don’t you come closer, sir? Keep coming this way.”

Sapnap, not liking to be challenged, stepped forward, “You cannot win her love by holding her prisoner!”

“No- Sapnap don’t!” You grabbed his hand, pulling him back.

He nodded resolutely, gripping your hand as you both moved toward the door, “Lets go then, no more time will be spent with this monster.”

“Don’t go!” Dream wailed as you hurried away down the hall, “Now let it be war upon you both!”

Something was going wrong, of course it was, because when was it not?

Your entrance in Don Juan Triumphant had gone according to plan, but the man who had stepped out as Don Juan was not George, as it should have been.

You steeled yourself, trying to come up with a logical reason.

George must have gotten sick, and a stand in had taken his place, yes that must be it.

“Past the point of no return, no backward glances, the games we played till now, are at an end.” The man sang, “Past all thought of ‘if’ or ‘when’, no use resisting, abandon that thought and let the dream descend.”

Your panic seemed to rise, the double meaning in his words filling you with dread.

“What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire locks the door? What sweet seduction lies before is? Past the point of no return, the final thread hold. What unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return.”

You moved carefully to your next mark, trying to work out who it was in George’s place, “You have brought me, to the moment when words run dry, to the moment when speech disappears into silence, silence.

I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why, in my mind I already imagined, our bodies entwined. Defenseless and silent, now I am here with you, no second thoughts, I’ve decided, decided.”

You just barley stopped from trembling as you realized, it was Dream, “Past the point of no return, no going back now. Our passion play has now, at last, begun. Past all thought of right and wrong. One final question: how long should we two wait, before we’re one?”

“When will the blood being to race? When will the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?” You finished, taking an only slightly shaky breath.

The phantom grabbed your hand as you both sang, “Past the point of no return, the final threshold. The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn, we’ve past the point of no return!”

Everyone in the audience seemed to hold their breath, they too knew that this was not George. The cloak that had hidden Dreams mask fell, and they gasped upon seeing the plaster smiling face.

He grinned behind the mask, and punctuated, “Say you’ll share with me, one love, one lifetimes lead me, save me from my solitude.”

The words stung even before he pulled out a ring, holding it out to you, “come with me, or this whole place will come down upon us.”

Slowly you looked to the audience, Sapnap was standing in the isle, looking worried.

You couldn’t let him get hurt.

You nodded reluctantly, as he continued, “say you want me by your side anywhere you go let me go too, (y/n) that’s all I ask of-“

Slowly, you reached up, pulling the mask off his face, revealing the terribly scared face to the world.

The gasps turned into horrible screams as a curtain was raised, and Georges body tumbled onto the stage.

Almost immediately Dream flung his cloak around you, disappearing.

Sapnap ran up onto the stage, along with the crew, police officers and other patrons.

“Sapnap! Sapnap you’ve got to come with me!” Eret cried, rushing out onto the stage.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Sapnap!” They yelled again, “I know where they are!”

“But can I trust you?” He demanded.

She nodded, “yes, and remember, keep your hand up at eye level.”

“Why?”

“Punjab lasso.” Was all he offered in explication as he led Sapnap away.

Soon enough Sapnap was creeping through the shadows of the phantoms layer, watching as he tried to place a wedding veil on your head, “Too bad pity comes to late, turn around and face your fate, an entirety of this before your eyes!”

You turn to face him, looking up at the mess of scares that cover his face, “this haunted face holds no horror for me now, it is in your soul that the true distortion lies.”

The phantom turned suddenly, to Sapnaps hiding place, “Wait! I think, my dear, we have a guest! Sir, this is indeed an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you would come And now my wish comes true— you have truly made my night!”

“Free her!” Sapnap yelled, stepping into the light, “do what you want to me but let her go!”

“Your lover makes a passionate plea.” Dream laughed at you.

“Sapnap it’s useless!” You cried.

Sapnap shook his head, “I love her! Does that mean anything To you? I love her! Show some compassion!”

“The world showed no compassion to me!” Dream retorted.

He reached out toward you, “(y/n), (y/n), please let me see her!”

Dream grinned maliciously, “be my guest.”

Sapnap rushed forwards, as Dream contiued to taunt, “Monsuier, i bid you welcome, did you think that I would hurt her? Why should I make her pay, for the sins which are yours?”

As he finished the last words the Punjab lasso came sailing out, and Sapnap barley had time to fling his arm back up as he was dragged back, the only thing keeping him from hanging being the fingers he’d wrangled between the rope and his neck.

“No!” You cried, struggling to your feet.

“Order your fine horses now!” Dream yelled, “Nothing now can save you, except maybe... (y/n).”

You stood, shaking as he turned to you, “Start a new life with me- buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me now and send your lover to his death! This is the choice, this is the point of no return!”

“(y/n), forgive me, please forgive me, I did it all for you, and all for nothing.” Sapnap sang, looking at you desperately.

At the same time you turned toward Dream, “Farewell my fallen idol, and my false friend, one by one my delusions shattered.”

“Too late for turning back, too late for prayers and useless pity!” Dream sang.

“{all hope of cries for help, no point in fighting!} (say you love and my life is over, either way you choose, he has to win!) {for ether way you choose, you cannot win! So do you end your days with me or do you send him to his grave?}”

“Why make her lie to you, to save me?” Sapnap yelled.

You looked between them desperately, “Angel of music..... {past the point of no return!} (For pity’s sake (y/n) say no! Don’t throw your life away for my sake!) Who deserves this? When will you see reason? {The Final threshold! His life is now the prize you must earn! You’ve passed the point of no return....}”

You looked at Dream, no longer trying to hide the fear that coursed through your veins, “Angel of music, you have deceived me, I gave myself blindly to you.”

“You try my patience! Make your choice!” Dream yelled.

Looking back at sapnap for a moment you stepped forward, whatever it would take, you would keep him safe, “Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you, you are not alone.”

Reaching out, you took the mask from his hand, tossing it to the side as he moved closer to you as well.

Before you could hardly blink he was kissing you, and with little more than a second thought you kissed back.

Sapnap watched, in partials horror, until the phantom drew back, shaking as he whispered, “No one has ever kissed me- not even my own mother.”

You nodded, and then suddenly Dream began to move across the room, grabbing a knife from somewhere as he stalked up to Sapnap.

He paused for a beat, and you could feel the terror in the room- until he slashed at the rope, and Sapnap fell the ground.

You rushed over to him, kneeling beside him, “Sapnap! oh Sapnap!”

“Take her,” dream wailed, “Take her and forget me, forget all of this! Leave me alone- forget all you’ve seen....”

Sapnap struggled to his feet, holding you close to him as he backed towards the channel.

“Take the boat, leave me here, go now, please!”

The sounds of the mob looking for Georges murderer seemed to grow louder as they grew closer.

“Hurry! Now before its too late!” Dream yelled.

Sapnap hurriedly started to help you into the boat, but you pulled away, moving back to the Phantom, long enough to hand him the ring.

Then you were off, turning to Sapnap as the current carried the boat away, “I’m sorry Sapnap- I couldn’t let him hurt you- I couldn’t!”

“Shhh. It’s alright (y/n), it’s alright. He can’t hurt you anymore.” He murmured, pulling you into his arms.

“Say you’ll share with me, one love one lifetime.” You sang shakily.

Sapnap nodded, “Say the word and I’ll follow you.”

“Share each day with me, each night, each morning...” The sounds of your voices traveled back up the tunnel for Dream to hear.

He sighed, looking resolutly into the distance, “You alone can make my song take flight- It’s over now, the music of the night!”

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #dreamwastaken x reader #sapnap x reader #phantom of the opera #teddy06 writes

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timebird84 · 3 years

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🎄 PotO Advent Calendar 2020 🎄

By @a-partofthenarrative

“Silver and Gold”

A/N This is a sequel to my 2018 Advent Calendar piece, “Evergreen”. It is not necessary to read that first, but it might be helpful as there are some references to that here. Regardless, I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading. Happy Holidays, y’all!

Christine loved New York at Christmas.

The sights, the sounds, the smells…every moment of strolling through the city streets, block by block, had brought an exhilarating thrill that had been absent from her heart for far too many years. Even hours later, as she stood in the kitchen, elbow deep in pie dough, she had been unable to wipe the smile from her face.

Ms. Fleck had disappeared to somewhere or another at one point, claiming “errands” and leaving Christine to wander lower Manhattan for the better part of an hour. Weighed down by the variety of shopping bags, she had meandered uptown at a leisurely pace, stopping to admire the newly erected Christmas tree in Washington square before making her way up 5th Ave. to Herald Square, where she would find Ms. Fleck and Erik’s odd horseless contraption that had initially spirited her to Coney Island.

As she passed the stream of elaborate shops boasting anything any man, woman or children could ever desire, she lingered here and there, casting appreciative eyes to the elaborate window displays attracting crowds along the sidewalk. One particular window snagged her attention: a fanciful tower of toys teetering precariously on top of one another, held aloft in some miraculous defiance of gravity.

Biting back a smile, she stepped away with a silent resolution to return with Gustave. The poor boy would be positively beside himself when he saw the treasure trove in front of her.

She had located her shopping companion only moments later and, with confirmation from both parties that their feet and funds were exhausted, bags and passengers were located into the carriage for the trip home.

At least...she hoped it would become home. Goodness, but it did feel like home; this crazy, complicated family she had formed in a strange netherworld of curiosities. Upon returning to Erik’s home, it had been discovered that they had beaten “the boys” back to the residence, so with no tree to decorate, Christine had set her attention to another one of her favorite holiday pastimes.

Now, planted firmly in the large kitchen, covered in flour and holiday cheer, she rolled the stubborn dough into a thin sheet, a pie plate stuffed full of apples set to the side patiently waiting for its cover. Satisfied with her work, her fingers had just curled around the edge of the thin sheet when a commotion drew her attention to the front of the house. Brow furrowed, she wiped her hands on her apron and left the kitchen to investigate.

Ms. Fleck was already present and Christine cast her a questioning look before another shout snapped her eyes to the foyer.

Dr. Gangle stood just inside the door, the sole member of the group lucky enough to claim the prime position out of the cold, although one’s definition of luck would depend on one’s opinion. The poor man’s arms were wrapped around the top of one of the largest evergreen trees she had ever seen, this one seemingly dwarfing the childhood giant she had described to Erik only hours before. No doubt this had been Gustave’s doing. As his father before him, her son had a tendency to want to “one-up” anyone or anything that he deemed worthy of bragging rights and she bit back a chuckle despite herself. Maybe it was time her beloved masked enigma had a taste of his own medicine; the fact that it was delivered by his own progeny was turning out to be a delightful twist of Fate.

Shouts echoed from beyond the door, phasing in and out in a cacophony of chaos as the tree twisted and turned in a macabre dance in attempts to be pushed over the threshold.

“Left! Move it to the left!....No, the OTHER left!”

“That IS left! Watch it! You’re going to take the paint clean off the frame!”

“Gangle! Squelch! If either one of you idiots scratches the paint, you’ll be repairing it yourselves with Ms. Fleck’s mascara brush!”

Both women watched in stunned silence at the tenuous exchange before Christine glanced down, brow furrowed and voice weary. “Goodness, but it sounds like they’re having some trouble, doesn’t it?”

The smaller woman shrugged. “Frankly, I’m impressed that the Master knows what a mascara brush is.”

Christine blinked, unable to answer before the tree moved just so, allowing a small blur through the doorway and straight into her skirts. “Maman!” Gustave beamed up at her, thick snow caked in the hair along his brow. “Look at the tree we found! Isn’t it wonderful? I think it’s even bigger than yours!”

“It is..something!” she exclaimed brightly, hunkering down to look him in the eyes. “What happened, cherie? You look as though you’ve been caught in a snowstorm.”

Gustave pulled off his hat and swiped a carelessly palm over his hairline, sending clumps of snow to the wooden floor. “We had the best time! Dr. Gangel and mr. Squelch had a hard time cutting down the tree, so Mr. Y stepped in to help them. Well, the three of them began to argue over which way was the best way and while they were yelling at each other, the tree started to creak and then fell- right toward the sleigh!”

Christine gasped, feeling slightly “Oh no…”

“Oh yes!” The boy chattered on, seemingly oblivious to the picture he was painting. “That seemed to get their attention and then they ran toward the sleight. I didn’t get to see much after that because Mr. Y grabbed me, but we ended up in the snow. You should see him, Mama! He looks so funny!”

“Gustave, do you realize any of you could have been hurt or worse?! Mr. Y likely saved your life!”

Gustave rolled his eyes in a fashion so similar to Erik that Christine’s breath caught. “Maman, I’m fine. The tree didn’t even land anywhere near us.” His little brow furrowed as he glanced at the tree in the doorway, a frustrated Dr. Gangle staring at its branches with open disdain. “Do you think we’ll be able to get it inside?”

“I..don’t know, love. I’m sure Mr. Y and the others are doing everything they can.”

More grunts and shouts caused mother and son to glance up and Christine quickly snatched Gustave and stepped back as the tree hurtled forward, succumbing to a final desperate push from Squelch and Gangle. With one hand planted firmly on her son and the other pressed to her chest, she watched wide-eyed as the men muscled the enormous evergreen deeper into the house, and a masked figure stumble in behind them, shutting the door with an echoing bang and slumping against it with a weary sigh.

This man looked nothing like the impeccable figure she had always known. Instead, the man before her was a disheveled mess; wilted against the doorway, chest heaving, hair caked with snow, overcoat askew and one glove and his cravat missing (although really, who wore full evening dress to trek through the woods?).

With a quiet word and a promise to reconvene soon, Christine sent Gustave upstairs with Ms. Fleck to clean up before pasting a sympathetic smile on her lips and moving to his side. “Oh, my poor Erik,” she soothed, taking his gloveless hand in hers. “Something tells me today did not go exactly as planned.”

He cracked one eye open at the sound of her voice. “Christine��” Even his voice was exhausted. “Never again…”

“But Gustave is happy, Erik. You did well.”

“...and nearly killed us both in the process.”

“Yes, well, he did mention that,” she muttered. “But thankfully no one was killed or maimed and the tree was delivered successfully…”

Both eyes opened to regard her now and she only sighed and smoothed a hand over his snow-wet face. “I am nearly done with an apple pie. I meant it to be a surprise, but given the circumstances…” She chuckled at the faint light that came to his gaze at the mention of his favorite dessert, another newly discovered similarity to their son. “Go and clean up while I finish and then we’ll all decorate our new tree together.”

This brought another groan as Erik let his head fall back against the door with a thump. “Christine, I have a bountiful staff. This is what they are paid for.”

“Not this year.” she countered. “Besides, decorating is the most fun of all. I’ve already laid out the popcorn to be strung and I picked out some lovely ornaments in the City today.”

“The City? Christine, you went to Manhattan alone?!?”

“Of course not, Erik. Ms. Fleck accompanied me” She squeezed his hand. “Now up you go.”

“But Christine!”

She met him eye for eye. “Don’t! I am a grown woman. We were perfectly safe. Now go upstairs, change into some fresh clothes and decorate the Christmas tree with your son.” Stepping back, she helped him to his feet, smoothing her hands down the sleeves of his overcoat and pressing a kiss to his frozen lips. “I shall join you as soon as I get this pie in the oven.”

*********************************************************************

Nearly an hour later, the pie covered and browning nicely, Christine untied her apron, let down her hair and migrated to the living room where the festivities already appeared to be happening in full swing.

The tree now stood in the place of honor in the front corner of the room, beautifully centered in front of the large bay window, creating a lovely visual for anyone who happened to pass along the street. Dr. Gangle, Squelch and Ms. Fleck had taken up positions nearby, sorting through the packages and parcels from their shopping excursion, taking turns to comment on the contents of each.

Muttering from the back corner turned her attention to Erik and Gustave, both dressed in fresh shirtsleeves, waistcoats and trousers, and seated side-by-side on the couch with a bowl of popcorn between them. Gustave was attempting to teach his father to string the snack food to create a festive garland that would be just perfect. Erik, bless his heart, listened indulgently as he tried to copy Gustave’s motions. Unfortunately, while the former Opera Ghost was a master of innumerable things, the muttered curses and muffled cries of pain indicated that the needle was making better progress connecting with skin rather than kernels.

The rustling of skirts announced her presence to the room and Erik immediately set the string and bowl aside as he stood to greet her. “Ah, there you are, Christine. Would you care to ah...take over the garland crafting?”

Biting back a smile at his attempts to cover his inadequate stringing skills, she gave him an impish grin as she drew near. “And deprive you of the experience? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“It’s all right, Maman,” Gustave commented, never taking his eyes from his work. “He’s not very good at it.”

Erik’s gaze snapped to hers as if to say There! You see? but she quickly and quietly tempered it with one of her own. “Not everyone excels at the same things, Gustave. But if there is one thing I know about Mr. Y, it is that he has quite the eye for making beautiful things.”

“Except popcorn garland,” Gustave supplied.

Erik’s expression was positively indignant as she worked to suppress the quirk of her lips. “So it would seem.”

“We’ve got all of the ornaments arranged for you when you’re ready, Boss,” Squelch announced, waving a hand over the various boxes of colored bulbs laid out beside the tree. “Ms. Christine picked up quite the selection.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, all.” Erik managed, taking Christine’s hand as they approached the tree. “Shall be begin?”

The three glanced between themselves, then back at the Master and his lady. “You want us to help?”

“Of course!” Christine smiled, “besides, none of this would have been possible without you.”

No further permission was needed by any of the parties. Gustave, finished with his popcorn garland, wound it around the tree, accepting assistance from Erik and Dr. Gangle at different points depending on height and availability. Christine, Squelch and Ms. Fleck declared themselves in charge of the myriad colors of ornaments and directed where and what were hung until the tree was transformed from a blank green palette to a wonder of color and light.

One of the most important purchases for Christine had been a set of candles for Advent. “This was one of my favorite traditions growing up,” she remarked as she struck a match. “With all of the traveling my father and I did, there were many of our traditions that we were forced to forego, but he always made certain we had a set of candles for Advent.” With a radiant smile, she lit their first candle, relishing in the pop and crack of the wick catching fire. “This one represents hope.”

“The second represents faith,” Passing the match to Gustave, she helped him light the second candle before offering it to the masked man standing at her side. Wordlessly, he accepted it, his expression unreadable as he set the match to the wick and the third candle spring to life. “And the third,” she supplied, meeting Erik’s gaze over the flickering flame, “is for joy.” A ghost of a smile crossed his lips then and her heart squeezed a bit tighter in her chest.

“What about the other candles?” Gustave asked.

Christine blew out the match and smiled down at him. “Traditionally, there are four Sundays in Advent and each week one more candle is lit. The fifth is lit on Christmas Eve. We’ve started a bit late this year, as it’s nearly Christmas, but all will be lit as the season progresses.”

Gustave studied the candles, then glanced at her “Did mofar teach you any other traditions that we can have here?”

“Oh, cheri, so many! Although, we rarely had the chance to partake in any of them given that we were never in Sweden much after my fifth birthday. The legend of St. Lucia, julbord, julklapper.” She brightened. “I may be able to make julmust for Christmas Eve if I can find the proper ingredients. That is, if you don’t mind, Erik?”

Slipping an arm around her waist, he remarked. “I want to know everything that is important to you, ange. If it makes you and Gustave happy, then consider it done.”

The boy’s attention shifted to him then. “What about you, Mr. Y? Did you have any traditions growing up?”

Erik’s panicked eyes immediately shot to her and Christine smoothly took control of the conversation. “Gustave, I’m sure Mr. Y knows many of the same holiday traditions that you do.”

“But he’s never even had a Christmas tree before…”

“And there were many years where I did not either. Like myself, Mr. Y has spent a great deal of his life traveling, haven't you, Erik?”

“I have,” the masked man confirmed, but offered no further explanation.

Thankfully, this seemed to satisfy the boy for the moment. “So... we’re blending. Maman’s traditions with Mr. Y’s?”

Christine glanced at Erik, who looked as lost as she felt. “Er…”

“In a sense, I suppose,” Erik supplied. “But perhaps it is more accurate to say that we are starting our own traditions. As a..” he trailed off suddenly, his normally stoic face slipping into something akin to sudden wonder.

“As a family?” Gustave ventured.

“Yes, my love,” Christine whispered, fingers covertly creeping into Erik’s palm as he held her hand like a lifeline. “Exactly that.” Drawing him close to her side, she bent down to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’ve had an exciting day and according to that clock in the hall, it is much past your bedtime. Say goodnight to everyone and I’ll be up in a moment.”

“Ah, actually, Christine, may I speak with you for a moment?” Erik cut in.

“Come on, little master,” Ms. Fleck said with a wink, catching Erik’s eye. “If you can get your nightclothes on, I’ll read you a story before your mama comes to tuck you in.”

Gustave broke into a grin, pecking Christine on the cheek before dashing for the stairs. Christine watched him go with a loving smile before tipping her head back to smile up at the man stationed behind her. “Look at how happy he is, Erik. You gave him one of the best days, despite all of the trials that came with it. That boy worships the ground you walk on.”

“I care for him in a way that I never knew I was capable of,” he admitted, tucking her hand in his arm and turning to the tree. “I would move heaven and earth for that boy.”

“Welcome to parenthood, my love,” she whispered.

With a sigh, Erik moved to stand before her, cloaked in the colors cast by the candles flames against the glass ornaments of the tree. “Christine, I admit I’ve been struggling when it comes to you and Gustave. I am not proud of it, but you must understand that I spent the majority of my life in utter solitude. Even in our...early acquaintance, the very notion that someone would care for me, let alone that I would one day have a son of my own…. was laughable.

“Both of us know how the last story ended and quite frankly, as far as I was concerned, that was the end,” He shook his head, glancing down to the floor. “But then our paths converged again, ten years later with the knowledge of Gustave...and almost losing you again...it awoke something in me, Christine. Something that made me realize that I never want to feel that way again.

“You, my darling, are the only thing that matters to me. You and Gustave and, if it is agreeable to you, you would make me innumerably happy if you would remain in Coney Island.”

Her breath caught as the weight of what he was asking began to sink in. “Erik, are you…?

He gripped her hands tighter, gaze steady, but pleading. “Stay with me, Christine. Be my wife. Let’s give Gustave the family we should have been from the beginning.”

‘Erik…” she whispered, leaning her forehead into his chest as tears flooded her eyes. “Truly?”

In response, he pulled a box from his vest pocket, flipping it open to reveal a diamond solitaire. On one side, a band of gold, warm and radiant, linked a band of silver on the other, cool but elegant, joining in metallic harmony to cradle the diamond that winked up at her.

“Oh, Erik…” she breathed again, “it’s stunning”

“I know the tradition is bended knee, but I seem to have had a traumatic incident with a rather aggressive evergreen,” he replied dryly, “so I hope you’ll forgive...”

“Yes.”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Yes. I’ll marry you. We shall stay.” Christine beamed up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “With all of my heart, I love you, you stubborn boar. The answer is ‘yes’.” Curling her fingers around the edges of his waistcoat she pulled him forward in a flash of motion and kissed him thoroughly in front of said evergreen tree.

A chorus of enthusiastic cheers broke the spell a moment later and the couple turned to see Gustave, Ms. Fleck, Dr. Gangle and Squelch positively glowing at them from the stairs. “Way to go, Boss!”

“Yes, well...” Erik sputtered, looking to Christine for assistance. She only chuckled, kissed him deeply again and extended her left hand, to which he responded by obediently sliding the ring on her finger.

Gustave rushed down the stairs to embrace them both, begging to see his mother’s ring, then beaming up at Erik as if he had just been handed the world on a plate. “Does this mean I can call you ‘Father’ now?”

Christine’s breath caught as her brown eyes collided with Erik’s mismatched ones, which looked slightly watery again. She watched as his throat bobbed, silently struggling for control before managing an answer. “Of course, my boy. You may call me whatever you wish,” he said, stooping down to look the boy in the eye. “You are my son and I am sorry if I’ve done anything to make you feel as though I’ve held you at arm’s length. I..love you, Gustave. I always have.”

Christine pressed her hands to her mouth, tears flowing anew as the boy’s mouth trembled and he launched himself into the arms of the masked man whom he had come to idolize. Erik caught him, holding him in an awkward embrace as he met Christine’s teary smile, unbidden moisture already beginning to track down his visible cheek.

Erik stood, bringing Gustave with him and Christine moved forward to join the embrace. As Erik’s free arm came around her and Gustave’s little hand held tight to hers, she was sure her heart would burst.

Her father used to say that a broken, battered path often led to the most beautiful destination and as she stood in the embrace of the two men she loved most in the world, bathed in the silver and gold glow of the candles and Christmas lights, she knew that she was finally home.

With a family of her own making.

As it always should have been.

Eyes slipping closed, her fingers languidly trailed up and down Erik’s spine and smiled as the large hand at her waist squeezed her imperceptibly closer.

From this day forward, as it always would be.

#PotO Advent Calendar #PotO #Phantom of the Opera #Door 15

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fairyartlover-writes · 4 years

Text

Fanfic: I’ve never seen such Perfection

Hello! Long time no see. Forgive me for that. I’ve already posted this on AO3 but i forgot to post it here...Oops, sorry. I’m afraid i have to say this isn’t a Loki fic (i know, shocking) but in fact, this a Phantom of the Opera fic, more specifically the 1990 series version with Charles Dance. To those who’ve seen the series, THAT scene made me absolutely furious and i wanted to cry at the injustice at poor Erik. So, of course, i re-wrote it. FWI, this starts quite abruptly because i was just so mad and i had to fix it, but i kinda like it. Let me know what you think

To those who have stuck around through that very large introduction, thank you. I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera (1990)

Pairings: Christine Daae/Phantom-Erik

Summary: Re-write of the picnic scene in the POTO 1990 series starring Charles Dance

Raiting: Teen and up (to be safe)

Words: 2,950

“Let me look at your face” He stilled, tense. Christine held her hands tightly in her lap, wanting to touch him and erase his fear but knowing it would only frighten him further. He slowly lowered his arms and looked at her, pained.

“I’m afraid you’ve asked the one thing I cannot give you. Please don’t ask again” He looked away and avoided her gaze, taking the food out of the basket at a much quicker pace. He hurt as he said those words but tried to hide it from her. She, of course, saw through it. She hated to be the cause of his pain, but she told herself she had a reason for doing so. She wanted now more than ever to reach out, but again, she held herself.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I thought I wasn’t capable of handling it. I have seen your heart; I have seen your eyes. Why should your face matter after all the good I’ve seen?”

“If it does not matter why ask me to take my mask off?” He said angrily. He still avoided her gaze, even as she searched for his. His hands had balled into fists by his side, knuckles white. She placed her hand in the middle of the picnic blanket, trying to bridge the immense gap that she’d created

“Because I want the last barrier gone between us.” His posture melted from anger to shame. Christine moved closer, trying to do something, anything, to erase his shame, for he should not feel any but stopped when he grew tense. She continued talking, trying to make him see. “You know all my secrets, the shameful and the joyous ones. You have seen me at my best and at my worst and have stayed through it all. You have helped me in every way possible. Maestro, please, let me do the same for you.” He stayed quiet, still as stone, but his breaths were shallow as if he could not breath. She breached the last inches that separated them and placed her hand on top of his. His head shot up and the look in his eyes broke her heart. He was ashamed, scared, terrified, but the hope in his eyes shone through it all. She squeezed his hand and smiled at him, as reassuringly as she could. The quiet seemed to go on for minutes until he spoke, barely above a whisper.

“It is not a face, it is hardly a semblance of a face. I cannot bare to burden you to such a thing.” Christine couldn’t help the tears that came to her eyes. This man, this wonderful, beautiful, broken man. How she wished to hold him and keep every bad thing away from him. How she wished to make every insecurity and dark thought disappear. Instead, she held his hand in both of hers and brought it to her lips. Even held within her hands, his still dwarfed hers. He gasped, astonished, as she gave a gentle kiss to each of his fingertips. She passed her thumb over the back of his hand and ran her finger over each callus, trying to memorize every detail that she could. His breathing become ragged and she looked up to meet his eyes. Tears were swimming in them and an emotion she couldn’t identify mixed in with the tears. Slowly, she brought his hand to her cheek and closed her eyes at its warmth. A choked gasp came from him, but his hand immediately cupped her face and his thumb hesitantly stroked her cheek.

“Do you know how I know I will not be repulsed by your face?” She asked him. She did not wait for an answer. “Because it belongs to you. As much as your hands, that teach so patiently and hold me so gently.” She nuzzled into his hand before opening her eyes and grabbing the other one and bringing it to the opposite side of her face. She met his gaze and smiled. “Because in that face are the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen, eyes that captivate me and always make me smile. Eyes that hold so much warmth and so much passion” Both his thumbs were gently passing over her cheeks, his touch as light as a butterfly’s. “Because that face belongs to the best man I have ever known. A man who saw me, a woman with nothing to offer and still decided to help her, expecting nothing in return. A man so gentle, so passionate, so loving that I cannot do anything but love him, all of him” Tear streamed down both their faces. She smiled at him, willing him to see the truth in her words. To the see the love she had for him and knowing that nothing will ever change that.

“Christine…” He choked. His eyes held a storm of emotions, each one passing too quickly for her to identify, but she saw clearly that he held so much hope for her words to be true, but everything in him telling him to ignore what was said and run. She did the only thing she could.

“Erik, I love you. Please let me love all of you.” Christine grasped at his hands that still cupped her face, her eyes never straying from his.

He was in turmoil. Every experience he had had with showing his face only ended in disaster. He did not want this to end in disaster. How he wanted the words to be true, how he hoped. Seeing her determination and her love for him clearly in her eyes made the air escape his lungs. How could such an angel love a monster like him? But the love was there in her eyes, clear for anyone to see. He passed his thumbs one last time over her cheeks before removing his hands from the sides of her face.

Christine slowly let go of him, prolonging their touch, not wanting to break the contact. She held her hands over her heart, willing for it not to run out of her chest. Erik looked down, again avoiding her gaze, and began untying the knot at the back of his head. His other hand kept the mask in place and when the knot was untied, he hesitated. Christine was patient, not hurrying him, knowing that that would do no good. He slowly took the mask off his face and closed his eyes. He didn’t dare lift his head and show Christine the horror of his face. He did not want to hear her screams, he did not want her to look at him in disgust or, worse, fear. He never wanted her to fear him. Willing himself to get on with it and without opening his eyes, he lifted his head

For a few moments there was silence, which terrified him more than he thought possible. There were no expected screams, cries of horror or the sound of Christine running away. There was only quiet, which was worse than all the screams he’d endured. His hands began to shake but then the most unexpected thing happened. Gentle, small hands, hands that could belong to no other, held his face and erased the tears that he didn’t know were running down his cheeks. His eyes snapped open in surprise. Christine was in front of him, smiling. She was smiling and touching his face. Without fear or disgust. He desperately held on to the hands that touched his face with so much kindness and love.

“Hello there Erik.” She had tears in her eyes but did not let them fall. She rubbed her thumb over his cheeks, in much the same way he did. Tears streamed steadily down his face and no matter how much she tried, some fell onto the blanket they were still sitting on. The utter relief and awe that flooded his face was reassuring as it was heart breaking. How many people had run away from him? How many times had people screamed at the sight of his face? How many times had it happened for him to think it was the expected outcome? Without thinking twice about her actions, she pressed small, butterfly light kisses all over his face, which only made more tears come.

“Does it hurt?” She asked quietly, afraid to break the spell around them, her forehead resting lightly on his. He shook his head and she pressed one last kiss on his brow. She wasn’t surprised when he fell into her arms and buried his face into her neck, silent tears hitting her bare shoulder. She knew she shouldn’t let any man be this close to her or to be touching her in such a way, but this was her Maestro, her Erik, and she would do anything she could to bring him comfort. She passed her hand through his hair, feeling its softness against her fingers, happy she finally knew how it felt after all the time she dreamt about it. They stayed like that for quite some time, picnic forgotten.

“How?” He whispered, his voice cracking on the one simple word, never taking his face from her neck, not daring to look at her face for fear she would push him away and scream in delayed horror.

“How what?” She said confused, just as quietly as him.

“How could you look at my face and not run away? Hold me like you do and not scream or be disgusted? Even Gerard cannot bare it.” Christine heart broke for Erik. How could someone live the way he did and continue to be kind? How could someone be so cruel and heartless to the man most deserving of love she had ever met? She hugged him closer, willing all his tears to go away and all the broken pieces to mend together by the sheer force of her embrace.

“Because it’s yours. Because that face it’s attached to your mesmerizing eyes, to your warm and gentle hands, to your voice that always makes me feel at home, to your lips that I always wondered what would feel like against mine.” She felt him gasp against her skin and his hands tightening against the fabric on her back. “I am not repulsed by your face because it is yours. And you are beautiful, face and all.”

“Do not say such preposterous things Christine” He tensed in her arms. How could a voice sound so angry and yet so sad?

“What have I said that is preposterous? All the words I’ve said are said in truth” He abruptly left her arms and sat up, avoiding her gaze. She could feel his anger rolling off of him in waves. He frantically searched for his mask. She tried to make him stop by laying a hand on his arm, but he shook it off angrily.

“Erik? What’s happened? What have I said to make you think that what I’m saying is untrue?” He turned around, furious, the anger and betrayal overflowing from his eyes. Christine tried not to flinch at his anger and tried to remain calm.

“Untrue? You’ve outright lied Christine!” He screamed without raising his voice.

“All that I’ve said is true.”

“True? True? How can you tell me you my face is beautiful and tell me it’s the truth? I may be a fool, but I am not blind” He turned away from her and began packing the forgotten picnic.

“I never said your face was beautiful.” He stopped, his back still turned to her. She hesitatingly put a hand to his back and immediately felt it relax under her touch. She pressed her forehead to the back of his shoulder. “I said you’re beautiful.” He didn’t turn towards her, but his anger left, replaced with the heavy weight of tiredness.

“You are not making any sense Christine”

“I am making perfect sense, Maestro.” She rested her chin on his shoulder, turning her face towards his. He still hadn’t put his mask on and was staring straight ahead. She tired bringing a smile to his face with her mischievous remark, but he remained impassive.

“Tell me Maestro, would you still love me if I had no hair?” He didn’t turn towards her, but she saw the way his brow furrowed and the downturn of his lips.

“What kind of question is that?”

“Answer it. Please?” She rested her cheek on his shoulder, still not taking her eyes from his face. Her hand, without meaning to, began rubbing circles unto his back, feather light. Immediately his shoulder relaxed and, slowly, achingly hesitant, his face turned to her. Fear and a small trace of anger were still in them, but the utter fondness she found in them brought a smile to her face.

“Of course. Without a question” He answered. It was not a question he thought he would ever have to respond, but the answer was obvious and clear to him, in the same way the sky was blue and that the sun would rise.

“Would you love me if I had warts all over my face? If I had green skin and hairy feet?” He raised his eyebrow, but his answer was as sure as the first one.

“Of course. But, Christine, what on earth are you trying to solve with these confounding questions?” The hand that was not on his back, slowly, as to not make him uncomfortable, came up to his face.

“If you could still love me, with no hair, warts, green skin, and hairy feet: why is it so difficult to believe that I could love you, despite of your face?” She was met with silence. At first there was anger, as if those two things could ever be the same. Then the shock settled in that, yes, those two things were somewhat the same.

“But that is different Christine, you know that”

“How are they different?”

“Because you would still be lovely. You would still be Christine. I,” He couldn’t seem to want to finish his thought. Her other hand came to the other side of his face. He went to pull away, but her hands remained steadfast on his face. His eyes dropped down to the blanket. She noticed that his hands were balled into fists, but their shaking was still evident. One of her hands reached down to his clenched hands and held it.

“You are still my Maestro, you are still the kindest man I’ve ever met, your heart is still your heart, your eyes are still your eyes. What I’ve seen doesn’t change that. Nothing will ever change the way I see you.” She paused for a moment, thinking if what she wanted to say would help or worsen the situation. In the end, she needed to let her feelings out. “I’ve never seen such perfection.” She knew her love and adoration were clear on her face when she said those words, his words. She wanted him to see that nothing would change between them. That his face would not deter her. His shock at hearing his words repeated back to him made her want to laugh, but she knew now was not the time nor the place. She gently brushed her thumb over his sharp cheekbone and, slowly as to give him time to pull away, she leaned in.

With her hands still cupping his face, she kissed him. And he kissed her.

The kiss was everything she had dreamed, and not, all at once. She found that his lack of nose did not deter from the perfection of the kiss, nor their tears wetting both their lips. His trembling hands steadied as they found purchase on her waist and hair. They gripped tightly onto her; afraid that she would vanish into thin air if he didn’t hold her tight enough. Afraid this was all a dream. That was fine by her, she would still be here when he realized this was real, and for now, she will hold him just as tightly. Her hand tightened on his jaw while the other travelled to the hair at the back of his neck, wanting to feel the smooth strands between her fingers.

At last, after what seemed like eternity but was still not enough, their kiss ended. They did not stray far from each other, their foreheads resting against each other. Their breath mixed with the others in the small space between them, their smile not leaving their faces, not that either wanted it to. They looked into each other’s eyes, captivated.

Erik couldn’t believe what had just happened. Christine had kissed him. His heart was trying to beat itself out of his chest and his brain couldn’t fully comprehend what had happened, but the look in Christine’s eyes as he looked at him, without a mask, made all of the voices in his head stop for a moment. All his thought were consumed by Christine. She had seen his face and she had kissed him! He could die right at this moment and he would be the happiest man on earth. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, marveling at the softness of her skin.

“Christine” He whispered. The way he said her name sounded like a prayer, spoken only for them to hear.

“Erik” She said in much the same way.

They stayed like that, in each other’s arms, for an instant that stretched into eternity, not a worry on their minds. Nothing mattered but them and that moment, everything else came second and could wait. As long as they had each other and they could wrap their arms around one another, everything would be fine.

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Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Below are my AO3 and Fanfiction account, if you want to check them out.

AO3: FairyArtLover

FF: WhiteLunaNight

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nerdywriter36 · 3 years

Text

Our Little Home (pt. 2) - Welcome Disturbances

The second chapter of Our Little Home, my Kerik fix-it fic, I suppose you could say, is finally here! Enjoy some sweet, soft dad Erik content :)

AO3 - Welcome Disturbances

FFN - Welcome Disturbances

Erik set his quill down in its ink well with a sigh and ran a hand through his hair as he overlooked the composition on his desk in front of him. He had been trying to work on it for weeks, but since the arrival of his son three months prior, his focus had been on something much more important to him than music; words he never thought he would say, but when his baby was in the question, he could say that a hundred times over.

His baby. Even just thinking about those words made a smile form on his face. He had never thought he would be so privileged as to have a loving wife by his side, never mind a child of his own to cradle in his arms and love. He was able to give them everything he had wanted as a child; the embrace of a parent, the pleasure of being kissed whenever they wished...the love from a father. He had never been privileged enough to have any of that as a boy, but he was determined to give his son exactly that and more.

With a glance at the clock, he realized that he had stayed up far too late and knew that he would end up getting an earful about it from his wife come morning, so he left his composition unfinished for another day and made his way towards the master bedroom. He pushed the door open at a snail’s pace, wanting the hinges to squeak as little as possible so he wouldn’t wake either of the people that were already fast asleep in the room; he knew very well that neither of them would be happy if they were woken up.

He was glad that he was already in his nightclothes; Christine had gotten him into the habit of changing out of his shirt and trousers when he was simply lounging around the house in the evenings. To be fair, it was much more practical when it came to taking care of Charles. No article of clothing was particularly safe when there was a baby around and his nightshirt and trousers were so much easier to wash than his suit. Not to mention that they were significantly more comfortable.

He tip-toed over to the bassinet in the corner of the room, near Christine’s side of the bed, and looked down at his son, smiling fondly as soon as he set his sights on the little boy’s face. He shared a few physical traits with his mother, for certain - he had her round cheeks, her small ears, and her button nose, which Erik thanked God for every night - but he could tell that his own features ran through the boy. He had been named for his grandfather on Erik’s side; a father he didn’t know outside of a few details and a photograph that was set on his desk in his study. But true to his namesake, the little boy shared the pale complexion and dark hair that both his father and grandfather possessed. His personality, talents, and interests would develop later but would be intriguing to discover nonetheless.

“Hello, my boy,” Erik whispered as he leaned over the bassinet, reaching down to gently brush the baby’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I’m sorry I was working tonight and couldn’t let you fall asleep on my chest like I usually do; I promise that I’ll make up for it tomorrow. For now, I have to sleep myself so Maman won’t get upset with me, though. Sleep well, my son. I love you very much.”

Leaning down, Erik gently brushed his lips against Charles’ forehead, smiling warmly at him as he watched the baby stir slightly while he slept, a quiet coo escaping him as he wandered through the dream he was having. Whatever it was, his only wish was that it was a sweet, peaceful dream and nothing less for his son.

He stepped over to the bed then, gently pulling back the covers on his side and slowly slipping under them so as not to rouse his sleeping wife. That was the last thing he wanted to do; as much as he knew Christine adored motherhood, he was well aware that the lack of sleep was taking its toll on her. Looking at her then, though, even in the dark, with her messy hair, pursed lips, and the strap of her nightgown falling off of her shoulder, she had never looked so beautiful to him.

He hadn’t thought it possible for her beauty on the day of their wedding to be surpassed; her flowing white gown, delicate lace veil, and beautiful rose bouquet had emphasized her beauty tenfold, setting a record for said beauty to him. But then, the news of the pregnancy came and, once he had gotten past his shock and fear, the sight of seeing her in her maternity gowns, her hands cradling the swell of her belly had blown away any previous moment in which he found her the most beautiful. Never could that sight be beaten, he had thought.

And yet, he had been proved wrong once more, on the day of their son’s birth. Seeing Christine propped up with pillows in their bed beaming down at their newborn son cradled in the crook of her arm, had made his heart swell and tears immediately fill his eyes. That moment had been enough to tell him that that day and every day from then on was going to be absolutely beautiful.

A fond smile on his face at the memories, Erik pulled the bedsheets over him, untied the strings of his mask and slipped it off to set it aside on his nightstand. He had never felt so comfortable with removing the mask - to take it off had meant vulnerability and weakness his entire life - but in his new life, in his room, in his home, with his wife cuddled close to his side and their baby boy resting peacefully nearby, he knew he was safe to be vulnerable and fall into a truly restful sleep.

That restful sleep didn’t last. If the last three months were any indication, that was his new reality for the next little while.

Charles’ shrill cry brought him out of his slumber, though he kept his eyes closed when the light from Christine’s bedside gas lamp filled the room. Half-asleep, he listened to his wife’s soothing voice as his son’s cries grew closer and louder, only to quiet into content little gulping sounds, which was what moved Erik to open his eyes and smile sleepily at what he saw; Christine was sitting up in bed, smiling down at Charles as she held him to her breast while he nursed. That was a sight he had grown used to over the three short months of his son’s life; at the start, he had tried to step out of the room whenever his wife breastfed their son, wanting to give her the privacy that she needed. Gradually, though, she helped him to see that she had no qualms with him being present, and after that, he enjoyed getting to be part of such an intimate moment between mother and baby. He counted it as a wonderful privilege that he had been awarded.

“Someone was hungry, hm?” Erik asked, his voice thick with sleep as he rubbed his face and sat up beside his wife.

“He was, yes, though he slept longer than I expected him to,” Christine said softly. “That was quite nice; I got some extra sleep in. He didn’t wake you, did he?”

“Oh, he did, but I don't mind. Any disturbance from him is a welcome one,” Erik replied, gently smoothing down his son’s hair with a fond smile. “He seemed to be sleeping well when I came in to go to bed. He was dreaming as well.”

Christine laughed quietly and nodded her head. “He certainly does dream quite a bit. He moves around and makes little noises in his sleep so often that I can only imagine what runs through his brilliant little mind. Needless to say, he must be creative for that to happen. Just like his Papa.”

Erik simply smiled and leaned his head against his wife’s, falling into a content silence for a time until his attention was drawn to his son when he finished nursing and vouched to gaze up at his father instead.

“Well, hello. You’ve finished now, have you?” he said, carefully taking the boy from his wife and propping him up on his shoulder before beginning to gently pat his back - yet another example of something that Christine had taught him was necessary in his journey as a parent in order to avoid a very cranky, uncomfortable baby.

“Feel free to go back to sleep, my angel. I can make sure he goes back to sleep,” he added with a glance over at his wife, only to smile when she vouched to shuffle closer to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Or you could do that instead and stay awake with me and Charles, though I’m not sure why you would do that instead of going back to sleep. We’ll only disturb you and then you’ll never be able to get back to sleep.”

“As you said, my love; a disturbance from you two is one that I count as a welcome one,” Christine said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her husband’s cheek and setting her hand over his where it still rested on Charles’ back. “And any time that I get the chance to spend with my husband and son is time well spent indeed.”

#poto #phantom of the opera #susan kay #kerik #christine daae #erik #e/c

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karmaholmes221 · 3 years

Text

Vicomte de Phantom II

Pier 69

Paris, 1895- A mysterious fire consumed the Opera Populaire. A mob rampaged through the theatre's twisted catacombs baying for the masked man they held responsible. Only his mask was ever found...

I flicked a strand of wet hair out of my face and began messing with the sleeves of my dress. It was busy down at the piers for this time during the day as relatives stood and waited for the disembarking passengers to make their way through the custom house. I stumbled slightly as I was jarred by a young man, who rushed past me to join a rather large crowd just outside the gates. Unable to extinguish my curiosity, I moved closer to see what all the commotion was about, slipping into the crowd of reporters, photographers, well-wishers, and gawkers without notice. The man, who was clearly a latecomer, turned to the man beside him.

“Has the Persephone docked yet?” he panted.

The man nodded. ”Yeah, the passengers are going through customs now.”

”Here they come!” A young woman whispered loudly to the two men as the first of the passengers made their way through the gate.

”It’s Mrs Astor!” one of the reporters called as a portly lady wearing an enormous plumed hat stepped through the gates, being escorted by a dapper gentleman.

”Hey, Mrs Astor! Over here!” the photographer called. Mrs Astor turned and several flashbulbs went off.

”How was your trip?” one reporter asked.

”Is that the latest Paris style?” another called.

Mrs. Astor just smiled and blew them a kiss before turning away and allowing herself to be escorted to her waiting carriage.

”Look, there’s Colonel Vanderbilt!” A young man near the front of the crowd called.

”Hey, Colonel, enjoyed those French pastries, did you?” the reporter asked.

Vanderbilt smiled broadly. “There’s nothing there we don’t have bigger and better over here, I assure you.”

”Thanks Colonel!” the photographer said loudly, trying to be heard over the chattering crowd. The Colonel smiled indulgently, patting his ample waistline lightly as the photographers flashbulbs went off before moving off to hail a carriage.

”Hey, there she is!” Someone yelled and all heads turn to the gates, I glanced over, only slightly curious as to the reason to who this mystery person was that they were all standing here waiting for and felt my breath catch in my throat at what I saw.

There, framed in the gateway, clutching the hand of a young boy, stood Christine Daae’. She was nearly obscured by veils and a cloche hat but she was gorgeous, iconic, every inch a star. There was a moment of awed silence as I tried to reign in my pounding heart and push the dread that was seeping through me away. ‘Why, after all these years, why did she have to show her face here, in this town? If Erik finds out she’s here…’ I refused to complete the thought, I didn’t want to think about how far Erik would go to regain his hold on the former prima donna. I pushed the thoughts away as the crowd burst into pandemonium as flashbulbs exploded and the reporters and photographers began shouting, all vying for Christine’s attention.

Christine remained silent, pulling the boy at her side closer to her and wrapping a protective arm around his shoulders as a familiar voice rose above the shouts of the crowd. “Her name is Madame de Chagny! Stand aside! Stand aside, please!” As Raoul appeared through the gate, I couldn’t stop myself I gasped. The woman just ahead of me glanced back but I could hardly find it in me to care. It was Raoul, older and slightly more weathered looking than I remembered, but still the same man that I had been married to all those years ago, still dapper and handsome and, in this moment, brusque irate. “No pictures, do you hear? No pictures of my wife, no pictures of the boy!”

”Hey Christine, why Coney Island?” one reporter called.

”Your first concert in years, why ain’t you singing at the Met?” A reporter in front of me, a young man with ink stains on his shirt, called out and Raoul looked towards him, a dignified look on his face.

“The Vicomtesse has been engaged by the well-known impresario –”

”Well-known?!”

No one’s ever seen the guy” the same reporter cut him off, before launching another into another question. ”How’d he lure the great Christine Daaé over here, anyways?”

”It’s the money, right? All that American moolah!” The photographer said mockingly.

”Hey Christine, whatcha gonna sing, “Yankee Doodle Moolah”?”A man in the crowd called and the people around him sniggered.

Raoul turned towards where the man’s voice had come from. “My wife is an artist, sir - - !” Raoul began heatedly.

”Yeah, and her art is paying off your gambling debts, is what they’re saying in France.” The photographer scoffed. I was hit with a moment of surprise at the news, I had heard of there financial burden because of some poor investments but I hadn’t realized how badly off they must be if Christine was coming out of retirement to pay their debts off.

”Is it true you left your entire fortune on a roulette table in Monte Carlo?” the reporter asked and Raoul’s eyes blazed angrily. “Why, you insolent jackal! How dare you -” Raoul said taking several steps toward the reporter.

“Father-” The boy began in a quiet voice that was unlike either of his parents.

“Not now, Gustave!” Raoul snapped as reporters turned their questions on the boy.

”Hey kid, how does it feel to have a famous mother?”

”This is your first time in America?”

”What do you plan to do here at Coney?”

The child glanced around shyly, clearly not sure how to handle the attention. ”I… want to learn how to swim.” He said quietly. There were hoots and laughs from the crowd and I couldn’t help but feel a small amount of sympathy for the boy shrinking back against his mother.

”I said, leave the child alone!” Raoul snapped, glancing around anxiously. “For God’s sake, didn’t this Mr Y send someone to receive us?”

I felt another stab of shock at the sound of Erik’s new name here. It was the name he had been using in the public eye at least, to me he was still Erik. The shock gave way to anger as I realized that he had been in contact with Christine and Raoul, however vaguely, while I had been forced to sever all ties with everyone in Paris because of his actions. I was brought out of my thoughts as the boy suddenly became very animated, he stepped forward and pointed at something across courtyard. “Mother, look..?Right over there… Across the square.. What is it?”

Everyone turned and I wasn’t surprised to see the sight of Erik’s carriage, fancifully designed with horses that were entirely mechanical and a driver whose face was completely obscured. The crowd around me began to buzz as words of astonishment, wonder, and even fear were thrown back and forth. “What on earth could it be?”

“I’ve never seen such a thing before in my life!”

“Damn strange, that’s what it is!”

“The most peculiar conveyance!”

Suddenly the door of the carriage opened and three familiar figures extricated themselves from the vehicle. I ground my teeth as the three figures bowed in unison to the crowd before turning to approach Christine and her family with their usual bizarre yet beautiful motions. “Are you ready to begin? Are you ready to get on? You’re about to start out on the journey of your lives.” Squelch said before reaching behind the child’s ear and pulling out a colored handkerchief.

” Is this some kind of joke?” Raoul demanded, his voice filled to the brim with bewildered outrage.

One of the onlookers closest to Raoul scoffed. “No, it’s a publicity stunt for that freak show on Coney!”

”It’s a front page feature, is what it is! You getting this, Smitty?” One of the reporters asked his photographer as he rushed to write in a small, leather book and I couldn’t help but smile at the idea of such good publicity for free.

There was yet another flash from the photographer’s camera.“You betcha!” he replied, taking yet another picture.

Gangle stepped forward. “If you’re ready, then get in. Once you’re in, then we’ll get gone. And who knows, once it goes, Where you’ll be when it arrives?” Gangle spoke and, in one fluid motion, he had removed Raoul’s top hat and suddenly made it vanish into thin air.

“This is outrageous!” Raoul snapped as the crowd began to murmur again, this time in approval.

“It’s amazing!”

”Brilliant!”

”I’m telling ya, that Mr Y is an absolute genius!”

Gangle and Squelch quickly moved to flank the family and walked them towards the carriage as the bird-like Fleck beckoned them forward. “It’s a fun house where the mirrors all reflect what’s real.” Fleck said mysteriously.

“And reality’s as twisted as the mirrors reveal.” Fleck and Gangle whispered.

Squelch added his voice to the mix. “And the fun is finding out what the mirrors show…” By now the whole group had reached the carriage and Christine was helped into it as Raoul continued to protest.

“This is unacceptable, do you hear me? I will be taking this up with your employer! Whoever he is!” Raoul snapped as he was finally coaxed into the carriage, leaving only the boy, Gustave, outside it.

Gustave gazed at the carriage and then at the crowd, his face and voice excited as he spoke.”Everything and everyone, it’s all just how I dreamed…All the freaks, and all the fun, exactly how I dreamed…And Phantasma still awaits…Wonder what’s behind its gates…” The boy climbed into the carriage and it silently rolled off as the onlookers watched, speechless. As the carriage disappeared from view I quickly turned on my heel and began to push my way through the crowd, catching snatches of conversation. ”That was something’, wasn’t it?” A boy who couldn’t be older than sixteen told the woman who was hanging on his arm.

”I was hoping she’d sing. Caruso sang half of Pagliacco for us when he got off the boat.” A woman complained to her friend.

“I bet she ain’t got it no more, not like the old days. Sure, she’s pitch perfect… But empty inside, like the flame went out or something’.” One of the reporters said simply, digging in his coat for a match.

I slipped passed a woman who looked to be my age as she suddenly began pointing to the arrival gates, calling out to the crowd. ”Look! It’s the Rockefellers!”

I finally made it through the last few people and slipped down the busy street, a plan forming in my head. I veered off the main street and into a dismal back alley. I would take a shortcut back to Coney Island and Phantasma, and I would find out exactly what was going on.

#part 5 #romance #phantom #opera #love never dies #erik destler #raoul #fanfiction #vicomte de phantom II

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findinghiddenisles · 4 years

Note

For the emotional prompts: 16. “Control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.”

OH HELL YEAH!! I LOVE THIS ONE!! I ALMOST ASKED THIS ONE OF YOU ACTUALLY!! XD!! @rscoil

16. “Control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.”

Christine was furious. How dare he turn such an image against her? The comforting words of her father?!! She thought he cared about her. Truly. That she wasn’t alone. She stepped forward, far into his personal space. She was tall, being Swedish born and all. But, not as tall as Erik.

She saw him nervous and that gave her a blind confidence. Adrenaline and anger making her daring. She had been yelling when he had refused to take her up, refused to answer his questions, after she had woken from her kidnapping. She had thought it all a dream. But, now, she knew it was not. And, he had just sat at that damn piano, until she began to scream at him of her concerns. He had stood abruptly coming up to her and stopping a respectable distance away.

“Control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.” His voice was too steady, it raised her hackles. The warmth in his eyes had vanished. The pools of molten heat that always seemed to emanate from behind the mask were stony and solid. He stood still as a statue, an odd sort of Adonis.

Christine despised being threatened, and hated how passive she was before this man, how she had ignored the signs that he was a man and not an angel, How she had been fooled all because she was still pining for her father! She was done! She was done not living, not feeling. Done!

She stared at him for a moment more before ripping his mask off, pulling it violently from his face. His body lurched forward before unsteadily settling back on his heels.

“If you’re going to be overdramatic, then so am I. You will not lie to me any longer.” She held the mask in her hand.

His face was truly shocking, no nose. Tight skin. She rolled her eyes. She had seen worst in the traveling fairs of men coming back from battle when she roamed the country side with her father. She was tired of the dramatics.

Opera mimics life, dear child, remember that! She heard Carlotta’s shrill Spanish voice echoed through her mind. Oh! How right she’d been! Christine thought.

He looked shocked, angry, panicked. She stared at him, not breaking eye contact once he met hers again.

Erik felt the breath escape him. The violent movement of his dear Christine ripping his mask off took out all fight within him. He had lost the upper hand. He could not take the way she looked at him. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. Yet, this brilliantly evil! audacious! young woman just stood there starting at him. Her eyes wide, her stance rigid.

His legs gave out beneath him and he fell forward on his knees burrowing his face in supplication before her, breathing heavily.

His collapse from threatening violence to supplicating himself at his feet disturbed Christine. This man whom she always saw calm and sad and serious with very few flights into whimsy and joy suddenly collapsing in front of her in the face of her actions broke her.

“Why did you lie to me? I thought you cared for me. Or did you just use my voice for your own glory?” She growled. In all honesty, she doubted that was the reason, the loneliness in his voice that she always felt and heard indicated that they felt similarly about being in the world. She knew, now, how alone they both felt. But, she wanted the truth. She wanted HIM to tell her the truth. Christine knew he wouldn’t unless she goaded him into it.

“No! No!” He leaned forward taking her skirts in his hand and pressing his face into them, feeling the slightly rough texture of the heavy linen. She was trying to fight the rising instinct to kneel down and hug him, hold him. She cared for this man, she loved this man, but she could not get passed that he lied to her! Stole her away! She was fighting hard, the image before her filling her eyes with hot tears that stung her cheeks.

“I- I- knew you would never care for me because of the nature of my horrid face. I am a monster and a monster deserves only to dwell within the shadows. To gaze upon beauty and never feel it. But, I could not stay away. I could not and when I heard your voice I knew that I had to be near you. To live. To breathe. and when—that boy! Came around I knew I knew—he could steal you away from me and I’d never see you again. I only had you. I did not know what to do. I did not. I am a monster. I am sorry. I am sorry. I frighten you and you hate me and I deserve it. My Christine, I am sorry. I am sorry.”

She couldn’t anymore, she couldn’t. She collapsed in front of him. Tears freely falling down her face. She took his face in her hands and pulled him up, cupping both cheeks in her palms and tenderly rubbing the skin. She had imagined in the brief seconds staring at him if his skin felt like satin or cotton or like supple leather. It felt like all of them. His skin was amazingly soft, smooth, despite its appearance or maybe…because of it.

Tears escaped his amber eyes, shock coloring his expression.

“I knew, I wondered if you were real. Too many signs that I was willing to ignore in my solitude, in my fear of being truly alone.” She passed her thumbs over the tendons in his cheek and he staggered, leaning towards her and closing his eyes. His mouth falling slightly open. “It is not your face that frightens me but the words and voice of a man who threatens me, the fear that he does not truly love me as myself. That is the only thing that could ever turn me away from you.”

“I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I beg for it. Please. Forgive me.” She may have considered that he was using the paranormal beauty of his voice to guilt her into forgiving him. But, he was breathing too shallow, his spine and shoulders dropping, behaving supine in the face of her words for her to consider that. He was shaking slightly, too, she noticed where his long fingers gracefully curved around her wrists and hands while she held his face. She wondered if this action was meant to imprint on her the nature of his ugliness.

“Only if you promise to never threaten me, or force my hand, and you must always tell me the truth whenever I ask for it.” He could lie to her tomorrow, but then he would be breaking his word. At the very least, If he lied to her again, betrayed her again, she could walk away knowing that she tried. She wanted him to try for her, too. She realized. She wanted to explore why they understood each other so, why his presence never made her feel lonely. But, he had to want to too.

Love is a dangerous game to play...one could go in with a full hand to only come out with nothing. She had heard someone say once, or she had read it. She could not recall.

“I promise.”

“Can you?” She decided to show her fear, her weakness on her face. To bring down her walls.

“I can, Christine, I can. Please, let me prove it to you that I can.” Erik could promise and he would do so. Not lie to her, tell her the truth, never threaten her. Learn to trust her, really, to trust himself. But, at this moment he could not bear the almost innocent look on her face as she gazed at him. He ducked forward to hide his face and she pulled him into her embrace, as he wrapped his arms around her back, pressing her to him. She softly rocked back and forth, enjoying human touch. A hug, a true embrace, for the sake of embracing.

“I love you, Christine. I love you.” He whispered. She gasped, tightening her hold on him, and tucked her face into his own neck, a sob escaping her. She never thought she’d hear someone tell her they love her, again. Someone who meant it.

“I love you, Erik, I love you.”

#e/c #e\c #Erik x Christine #erik and christine #phantom of the opera #the phantom of the opera #findinghiddenisles #mywriting #findinghiddenisles phics

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gwenore · 4 years

Text

The Demon’s Opera House. Chapter 6.

Summary chapter 6: Christine shares breakfast with Erik before going to practice.

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A long silence followed as before the demon let out a sigh.

“Come… you must be hungry,” he said as he stood up offering his hand as an aid to help her to her feet. Christine let her hand slip into his, using it to steady herself, feeling how her legs were trembling.

She did not know how much more she was able to take. Feeling already exhausted despite just waking up.

The demon opened a door which lead into a small room… Christine guessing that it had been made to store the relics which had once been in this chapel…

In the middle were a table which was had a small white tablecloth where there were two candles already lit.

“Please have a seat,” he mentioned towards her, releasing her.

“… thank you,” she whispered softly, sitting down at the wooden chair.

Erik watched her for a while, how her hand twinned the thin fabric of her white silken night gown. If he looked too long he could see her naked legs press against each other due to the chill.

“It will be but a moment more…” he moved towards the cupboard, opening it where he had stored a plate which was overflowing with fruits which had been cut up delicately, along with small baked breads and various cheeses.

He observed her reactions, as to see if she was pleased with his offering. She glanced down at it, even if her stomach gave a slight sound to show her need.

“It… it looks good,” she said with a nervous tone. She was still uneasy as to where they stood now, but it still did not seem like he was out to hurt her still. He had said so… but their relationship had changed.

She had promised to belong to him in order to protect those she loved… to keep this opera house to fall into the clutches of the demon.

A care which she did not have for herself…

However… what her sacrifice would mean… what consequences it held… no that she did not know…

“I am glad. Wine?” he asked as he pulled out a bottle, still having patches of dust upon it showing its age.

“This early?” Christine questioned, her voice trembling slightly. How… strange it was to have such a mundane conversation with a demon. However… she had found he was not… unrelenting…

He was capable of cruelty… that she was now very well aware off, him not even seeing his actions as such, just a means to an end.

Still… this breakfast, how it was prepared. It was clear that he again was attempting to be kind… at least to her.

She did not think it was a trick… then again being a demon how good he must be at deception…

The demon cocked his head amused as he used his clawed finger to remove the cork with ease, flicking it away.

“How do you know it is still morning?” he asked her. “You slept for quite some time Christine…”

Christine’s eyes widened. It was truth… in this abyss, even concepts of night of day became… meaningless.

“I… I… I suppose I do not…” she stuttered slightly seeing how a slight grin came upon his lips as he poured them both a glass of that blood red liquid.

Sitting himself he took a slight sip.

“But do not worry it barely midday, rehearsal has yet to start,” he said in a calm level tone, his eyes staring down into the liquid in his glass, to keep meeting hers.

“Rehearsal?” Christine furrowed her brows slightly. Why would he bring that up.

“Yes… wouldn’t want you to be late…” the tone of his voice seemed to show that he was apologizing for how he had treated her, even if he did not have the courage to admit what he had done.

“You will let me go to rehearsal?” Christine could not quite believe it.

“Hmm… it would be such a shame… to have your hard work go to waste,” he then muttered grasping for one of the grapes. “But make no mistake… this changes nothing between us.”

He let out a low sneer towards her, however Christine could not keep from having a slight smile on her lips.

“Thank you, I will do my best,” she said, taking a grape as well.

“No doubt about that. And once that is done and your… affairs for the day is settled… you will come back down here and stay until morning.

“Yes… as you wish,” she nodded her head. “I must confess… it has been exciting to sing, even for such a small part.”

“I have noticed your dedication,” he was happy that she was able to eat.

Those words… Christine could not keep from have hear heart flutter. To be commended for the work that she had put in. It was nice to have that for once.

“Still struggle with the high note though… except… when you helped me,” she tried her best to pick her words carefully.

His eyes moved upwards towards hers, those chilling pools of blue…

“Something that we should practice on then…even though you have my voice, I wish you to continue your practice… I wish to teach you,” he whispered softly.

“I’d… I’d like that…” she smiled softly.

“So would I…” Erik nodded slowly.

---

Finishing breakfast Erik leaded her up the spiraling stairs, him holding her hand to steady her.

“But… if it is midday… the main hall with the mirror will be brimming with people! They will see us! How am I to explain that I were to leap out of a mirror in my nightgown!” Christine was hit with this sudden realization, tugging slightly at the demon’s arm.

Erik could not keep from letting out a low laugh at her protest. “It would cause… interesting conversation… especially if a demon were to leap after you.”

“I certainly do not wish to be the subject of such interesting conversation,” Christine shook her head.

“But do not worry, that was not my intention, far from it. This IS my theater after all. I have free reign of it. There are other mirrors which are placed in less… populated areas if you will,” he said as they reached from what Christine could see was a large frame around a black wall. It truly wasn’t easy as all the light came from the lantern carried by the demon.

Still holding her hand he let down the lantern and placed his clawed hand upon it. Fire erupted upon that black wall, causing the young woman to instinctively press herself against that heated body.

The demon let out a soft sigh, trying to keep from trembling as he felt every curve press against his side. He stepped aside lightly, feeling uncertain as he did not wish for her to feel how truly inhuman he was.

“I suppose I should have warned you…” he murmured before mentioning ahead again, Christine seeing now that it was a window to what seemed like the attic of the opera house, the entrance of which was not far from her quarters.

“The fire,” she began. “I am afraid to get burned.”

“Only natural,” he said in a low tone, before he stepped through, his hand still holding hers as he aided her to the other side.

“Can you see through every mirror of this place?” her curiosity could not keep from asking him.

“Just about, well then Christine… we will see each other in the evening, you should go change… would not want to be late…” he said, yet still held onto her hand, not wishing to let her go.

“Yes…” she said moving away from him, her hand slowly slipping from his before she rushed for the door. The demon stood there… looking after her, feeling the chill of her touch consumed by the eternal fire from within.

---

“You are late Miss. Daaè,” Madam Giry said as Christine came rushing towards the stage.

“Please forgive me, Madam Giry… I…” Christine stopped slightly as she thought she could see a glimpse of those red glowing eyes from the roof of the stage.

Madam Giry followed her gaze, her usual stern yet calm demeanor breaking for but a second before turning back to Christine.

“No matter… take your seat…” she said before hurrying off stage to gather up the background dancers.

Christine’s eyes went towards the roof of the stage but… she could not be certain if those burning eyes were still looking down at her.

“Christine, it is not for you to be so late,” Meg’s cheery voice broke through the darkness of her mind, her turning around.

“Yes… I did not mean to…” Christine said, feeling rather flustered, Meg taking her hand to lead her to the chairs in the font row.

It had taken her some time to gather her mind in the room and to get dressed, taking time to cover the mirror… worried that she would see a couple of red eyes staring back at her.

To have him watch her dress… she shivered at the very thought…

So… indecent… utterly indecent… to have those eyes glide over her skin… feeling that heated touch, like how his hands had moved across her hips on the stage… pulling her closer… feeling him against his back.

The only form of protection which shielded her then was the layer of clothes which separated them. With those gone…

Removed…

“You seem distracted.”

Once again Meg’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“I am sorry Meg…” she glanced down in her hand. “I have thoughts which occupy my mind as of late…”

“So it would seem…” Meg cocked her head slowly, looking worried as her friend looked so… nervous… scared almost. “Has something happened?”

Christine knew that Meg would not accept an answer of nothing. Of course she could not hide that things had changed… and that she would not be able to do the things that she had done before now that she was bound to this demon and his abyss.

“I… well it is suppose to be a secret, but…” Christine’s mind was racing, doing her best to try to figure out what excuse she could give so that her friend would not have to worry about her pitiful fate. “I have a new teacher… I have struggled so with my high note… he has offered to tutor me.”

Meg blinked in surprise, but there was an excited look upon her face as she moved a bit closer.

“Is that why you were able to sing like you did during the last rehearsal?” she whispered softly towards her.

Christine swallowed, before nodding her head, trying her best to keep calm.

“Yes… that was because of him,” she smiled.

“You were so stunning… you sang like you were possessed by some… angel of music!” Meg exclaimed. Christine swallowed. Angel of music… no… he only wore the mask of an angel.

“Possessed… yes… perhaps I was…” she whispered softly.

“But who is he?” Meg pressed, taking Christine’s hand into her own. Christine’s mouth fell open slightly.

“Oh… I cannot say… but he is very talented… amazingly so in fact… he has the most beautiful voice I have ever heard. He plays the piano I have ever seen…” those thoughts which she had carried in her time with the demon were finally spoken.

“He sounds amazing, is he handsome?” Meg, who was one of those to adore romance stories had her mind drawn towards that at once. All those exciting stories that they played around and around in this opera house… how nice would it not be to have something like that happen and not on a stage for once?

Christine swallowed… the dread upon seeing that face, it still made her heart tremble.

“Why does that matter? It is in music that he tutors me after all…” she did her best to keep her voice calm.

“Is that all you ever think about? Music?” Meg shook her head as she rolled her eyes.

“Music is important to me… more so than I can say,” Christine said softly. No one truly understood that… how she needed music… how it moved her. The only thing which made her feel whole.

“So you always say,” Meg laughed softly.

“MEG. ARE YOU A DANCER? THEN GET ON STAGE!”

Their conversation was cut short by the voice of Madam Giry looking sternly at her daughter who at once rushed up on stage to take her place among the other ballerinas.

Madam Giry walked past Christine who was turned towards the music notes which held what she was to perform while making sounds to warm up her voice, humming the notes, but stopped when she noticed Madam Giry look at her.

“Just one thing I want you to keep in mind Miss Daaè…” she turned her face away from her to watch the dancers.

“Yes…?” Christine questioned.

“When you dance with the devil… the devil does not change. The devil changes you.”

With that she walked towards the stage, leaving Christine with the implication of her words.

#the demon's opera house #poto fic #poto erik/christine #poto demon erik au #the phantom of the opera fic #demon au

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countess-destler · 5 years

Text

Im here

Plot:You are Christine's older sister who is secretly helping the phantom be with Christine but when he gets in trouble what will happen next?

~Angst~

Movie+Stage Version

------------------------------------------

It was rehearsals for Don Juan Triumphant and you were one of the ensemble members while Christine had the biggest role in the whole opera, you knew the plan, Erik or as people know him as,Opera Ghost, has set for your sister, you had just recently known that she has been taking lessons from him and recently he's been.....controlling of her.

You were furious of all the things he has done to your sister, telling her to only sing for him and even pushing her too much to her limits, but how can you deny those eyes that seem to hold all the sadness of the world and his touch more comforting than harmfull.

You approved to help him but to a certain extent.

"Those who ta? Tangle with Don Juan!"

"No-no Piangi i already told you"

This was probably the hundredth time he was stopped today and from the looks of it not the last.

You see your sister sneaking of rehearsals and taking her cloak with her.

'Going to fathers grave again perhaps?'

You followed her going to the stables to fetch a horse for transportation.

Just as you were going to tap on her shoulder a hand reached to your hand pulling you far away from your sister.

"E-erik? What the hell are you doing? I demand you to let go of me-"

Just as you were rambling Erik covered your moth with his hand and shushed you.

"Shhh you're gonna get us caught"

"Your sister,Christine, is she going to your fathers grave?"

"Yes she is now would you please remove your hand"

You look at his eyes which was now twinkling with mischief looking at your sister leaving the stables as his smirk grows larger.

"Look whatever plan you have, go for it as long as my sister is safe and unharmed Ill let you do what you want to do"

You lay your hand on top of his hand that was formerly on your mouth but was now at your shoulder.

"I know how much you love her Erik, but i must warn you the vicomte will probably suspect her gone any minute now and will follow her"

He looks at you and moves his other hand that you werent holding to your cheek, as you struggled not to lean more to his touch he looks at your eyes with a glimmer of hope.

"Thank you (Y/N)"

"You know you are the only one I trust with my life"

Those words made your heart skip a beat and possibly make you smile a bit, you look away from him knowing he needed to leave to go to where your sister is.

"Be careful out there Erik"

A while later

You had knowledge of Eriks underground lair and had already known every passage and every path it takes to get to it, but right now you were sitting at his boat which had one of his cloak (he probably has a dozen) on it as you sit and wait you find yourself drifting off to sleep as you wrapped the cloak around your body (It probably is cold in the catacombs)

Dark, that was all you can see but for some reason you could still hear the music Erik composes when you were at the catacombs, little melodies floating inside your head as if its lulling you asleep that is until you heard loud thuds of footsteps coming from one of the many passages in the catacombs.

You open your eyes to see Erik who was now trying to keep his anger down, a failed attempt, not the first it happened.

"Erik?"

You approach but as he sees you all the anger in his eyes begins to fade away and without knowing you pulled him to a hug.

"A-are you ok? D-did the vicomte hurt you? Hows my sister, fine I suppose? A-and what happened to your hand?"

You had already released him from the hug and was now inspecting his arm for whatever was causing the redness and rash

"Ah.., Im fine so is your sister, its just that insolent boy and I got into a heated swordfight I suppose when he pinned me to the ground I scraped my hand to hard against the ice"

"You got what! He didnt harm you did he? I know his love for my sister is strong and his anger towards you stronger but please Erik you must take ca-"

He put a hand against your mouth to make you stop rambling again, he slowly and hesistantly enveloped you in a hug, it surprised you ofcourse Erik wasnt one to give affection.

"W-why are you so concerned about me?"

This is it the do or die moment, you had to admit you were starting to hold feelings for The infamous opera ghost, he isnt all bad he's just misunderstood, cast away from society.

"I-i"

"..."

"I uhmm n-need to go I leave some bandages here often now since you get in a lot of trouble"

You let go of his hand as you turn to leave the catacombs while Erik stands there still confused on what just happened

The day of the performance

This is it, this is the day Erik was gonna try to make Christine his, you being nervous was an understatement not only did you fear for the danger your sister might face but also the dangers Erik might face.

The Opera Populaire was surrounded by policemen at some point even though you saw the teasing Erik did earlier (which made the police that was on the pit shoot box 5) you were still a tad bit worried that this plan might not indeed work.

"Hey Chrissy?"

You reached out to your sister and enveloped her in a hug immediately.

"Good luck out there ok?"

"And umm I promise"

You caress her hand and look her in the eye with a sincere look

"He will never hurt you"

This seem to confuse your sister, she held your hand with a grip and looked at you with a confused face.

"Wait, you know him? B-but Ive never even seen you even meet hi-"

Christine looks back at you she starts to add things up with you disappearing without a trace and not seeing you at the crack of dawn.

"Y-you were with him this whole time?"

"..."

"So what you just became bestfriend with the opera ghost without even telling me?!"

"Its not like you told me you were taking lessons from him either!"

You breathed in and out in attempt to ease the tension of the situation that was unfolding and by the look of it your sister still felt betrayed.

"He isnt a bad man Christine I know deep in your heart you know that"

Your sister looks away from you possibly from betrayal but still holding both of your hands(meaning she probably wasnt that mad)

'Look with your heart

And not with your eyes

A heart understands

A heart never lies'

You sing to her that was the only was you can think of on how to diffuse this entire arguement.

"Miss Christine Daaé, you are due on stage in 5 minutes"

Christine looks at you with mixed emotion in her eyes and gives you a hug that was too quick to notice.

"I-i must go to my position dear sister"

She lets go of your hand and started to walk away and to her postion to the song where Erik was gonna be on the stage

'The Point Of No Return'

After a while

"Past the point of no return"

The song went by so fast in your head, you can see the police at the sides of the stage ready to aim and shoot at him but you assumed the vicomte didnt let them shoot yet.

Just then you heard screaming when you pushed past the crowds of people to get a close look on the stage it seemed that Christine tore off Eriks mask, your heartstrings tugged a bit the mask was the only think Erik kept close and without it he must have felt some weakness.

You turn to see the chandelier falling but all you could concentrate on right now was where the danm mask was as you finally found it the chandlier was so close to crashing on you but you were pulled aside by Madame Giry.

"(Y/N) for gods sake please be carefull we cant have another Daaé getting hurt tonight!"

"Vicomte! I know where they are you must follow me but remember to keep your hand at the level of your eyes"

You heard Madame Giry exclaim you turn to see Meg teaching the Vicomte how it is done and begged her mother to come with him.

Ofcourse you knew where they were being held but at the corner of your eye you see the policemen giving the Vicomte a gun.

No this cant be good, men with such anger as the Vicomte holds right now may do horrible things.

You rush down another path that leads to the catacombs being carefull not to get spotted by anyone, as you start to approach the catacombs you hide behind a pillar being carefull not to be spotted.

'Have you gorged yourself, at last, in your lust for blood?

Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?'

It goes on like as Erik placed the veil to Christines head and as he tries to explain the horrors of having a face like his

'Wait! i think my dear we have a guest!'

I suddenly spot the Vicomte behind the gates of the lair, he starts to beg Erik to release Christine and to show some compassion

'The world showed no compassion to me!'

You felt just how hurt Erik was at the moment but to your suprise (and to Raouls and Christines) Erik opened the gate and turned to walk away to possibly retrieve something.

Thats when you saw it the punjab lasso.

'Why would I make her pay, for the sins which are yours!'

He wrapped the rope around his neck and tightens it but not enough to kill him just yet, thats when Erik made Christine pick between him and Raoul, either he dies or she stay with him.

'Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of like have you known? God give me courage to show you, you are not alone'

As Christine kissed the phantom you had to admit that it hurt you but who were you to judge, in the eyes of the phantom you were nothing but a friend, at least that was what you thought.

After Christine kissed Erik he seemed to have a change of heart he released the Vicomte and Christine then begged them to just leave him.

But the Vicomte,he was still angered furious really,as he and Christine was sharing a hug he started to reach behind his back, when you looked back at Erik he had his back facing them as he was still wallowing with the pain.

It was from instinct you broke into a run then hugged Erik.

"(Y/n)? W-what are you doing here I thought you had also left me-"

Just as he was talking a gunshot could be heard echoing across the catacombs.

"AAAAAAA!"

Christine was the first to react but when you heard her scream you released Erik from your hug then dropped to the ground.

It took a second for Erik to realize but when he did he kneeled down quickly and craddled you on his arm as he tries to stop the bleeding from your stomach.

"N-no no please GOD PLEASE!"

"Please take anything! Anyone! Please anyone besides her!"

Christine rushed to your side as she grabbed both of your hands and squeezed them tightly.

"N-no! D-dear sister d-ont worry it will be alright, it has to be alright!"

You were already feeling weak probably due to the loss of blood on your body but you still managed to caress her cheek with little strength you had.

"O-ofcourse everything will be alright Chrissy"

You smiled at her but you ended up coughing blood.

"Shh (Y/n) save your energy for now love please"

Erik pleaded as he craddled you closer to him.

"Huh,love, thats a new nickname for me isnt it Erik?"

You tried to make the situation a little better but it seems Erik wasnt listening to you as he was now crying on your shoulder.

'Love never dies

Love never falters

Once it has spoken

Love is yours'

This seemed to get Eriks attention as he looks at you with sadness in his eyes

'Love never fades

Love never alters

Hearts may get broken

Love endures

H-hearts may get broken

L-love e-endures'

With what little strength you had you pulled his head towards you as he kissed you not caring about the blood that might get on his lips.

As he felt your hand which was at his cheek fall his heart broke as well.

"No no no! NO!"

He was now looking at your closed eyes with a smile still obvious on your face he pulls your body into an embrace as his cries gets louder and more tears fall from his eyes.

'Love never dies

Love will continue

Love keeps on beating

When you're gone'

#poto #love never dies #phantom of the opera #andrew lloyd webber #raoul de chagny #christine daae #erik destler #destler #opera ghost #erik destler x reader #phantom of the opera x reader #erik destler oneshot #imagine #oneshot

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morticianikolaevna · 5 years

Text

The Point of No Return

Phantom!Joe Mazzello X Christine!Reader. If you've seen or listened to music from Phantom of the Opera, you will know where this is going based on the title alone. I also kinda have a kink for Phantom Joe, holy fuck. I'm basing this right off the scene in the musical, movements and such. Joe and reader are lead roles in this in college, so enjoy!

Friends to lovers, slow burn, talk of sex.

You had been crushing on Joe since 8th grade, and you two had been joined at the hip pretty much since birth. One thing you both bonded over? Acting! Fast foward to now where now you are both are on opening night for Phantom, which you and Joe both got the lead roles for, Miss Chrisine Daae and Erik Destler, AKA The Phantom.

You sat getting makeup done when Joe walked in, decked out in his black wig, mask, and full black outfit and his cape. You nearly dropped over at how good he looked and you smiled at him through the mirror.

"Joe! Oh my god, you really suit the Phantom look! Who knew you looked THAT good with black hair??" You shouted at him.

All Joe could do was stare at you, in a skimpy dress with a beautiful wig that fell perfectly. Your makeup wasn't that heavy either which was perfect, he preferred the natural look for you, he thought you were absolutely breath taking in the first place.

Okay, maybe Joe had a little crush on you. Scratch that, its a huge one. Ever since 8th grade, he fell for your everything. And he means everything.

"You look beautiful, Y/N. Really, I mean that. The whole audience will fall over at our next part." He said and smirked, sipping some water.

You stood up and went to grab the basket of roses which you needed for this scene. You were really about to sing your heart out in front of everyone, with Joe. You were nervous but you touched his uncovered cheek sweetly.

"Well, thank you Phantom. Now get to the curtain, we have a show to perform!" You shouted and ran off. Joe watched with the biggest smile on his face as he felt his heart burst. He loved you so much.

Waiting for the correct time to come in and start acting the way you rehearsed for months, you sat on the stage in a beautiful dress, a wig that was long, curly and a chestnut brown color you began playing with the roses like the script says to.

You knew you had to dramatically turn when you heard Joe start singing his part. You started shaking slightly when hearing the seduction in his voice. You slowly turned and took in the aura he gave off, so seductive and sexy, and the song you were preforming wasn't helping.

Past the point of no return

No backward glances

The games we've played till now are at an end

Past all thought of if or when

No use resisting

You slowly stood up as you practiced before, and watched him with an intriguing look. You saw as he slowly crept his way towards you, the movements of his body looking almost cat like. You knew what part was coming, and you were shaking over it.

Abandon thought and let the dream descend

Joe stepped even closer as his singing broke just for a beat of rest, and came back in and he took your hand, turning you so your back was to his chest and his hand was gently around your throat. You leaned against him and gave in, just as scripted.

What raging fire shall flood the soul?

What rich desire unlocks its door?

What sweet seduction lies before us

Past the point of no return

The final threshold?

Joe had let you go, but kept flipping his cape and belting out his part. He circled you in a way, like a predator and prey. You looked off as if you were trying to avoid eye contact and ignore him, you let him finish before you took the plunge and sang.

What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn

Beyond the point of no return?

Joe stood back and watched you with seriousness as he done before. He was in awe of your beautiful form, just for him.

You let the operatic notes ring out and echo all over the theater as the seduction and lust began the climb towards climax.

You have brought me

To that moment where words run dry

To that moment where speech disappears into silence

Silence

Joe shook, thinking of how you would feel wrapped in his arms.

You crept around him, both of you making your way towards the stairs you both would climb for the ending of the song.

I have come here

Hardly knowing the reason why

In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent

And now I am here with you, no second thoughts

I've decided, decided

Standing in place, you let all emotion take over as you let your eyes roll back into your head for second, biting your lip at Joe. This definitely wasn't acting anymore, Joe knew this as well.

Past the point of no return

No going back now

Our passion play has now at last begun

Past all thought of right or wrong

You both slowly started climbing the stairs, the steps you were taking were seductive on purpose and you swayed your hips just for Joe. That really got his attention.

One final question

How long should we two wait before we're one?

When will the blood begin to race

The sleeping bud bursts into bloom?

When will the flames at last consume us?

You both reached the high platform and took strides towards each other. You began singing in unison as Joe spun you around and held you to his chest, running his hands where he could. You felt tingles of pleasure shoot all through you.

Past the point of no return

The final threshold

The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn

We've passed the point of no return

He held you close even afterwards.

After the finale curtain closed, you snuck off to Joe's dressing room to find him. After finding the grey door with big, red letters painted "PHANTOM" on it, you raised your hand to knock but was stopped by the door opening.

Yep, I'm leaving you all on a cliffhanger! I know, I'm evil. Next chapter you'll get smut, I promise. ❤ Here is the song by the way, if any of you wanna give it a listen!

undefined

youtube

@punkgeekchic @plethora-of-things @tardisgrump @borhapqueen92 @scarecrowmax @extremelypansexual

#bohemian rhapsody #queen #joe mazzello #ryder rambles

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robingurl · 6 years

Text

POTO/LND RP - Finding Dog

Notes: This is an rp between me and @kibaweissvulf Background: This our Phantom of the Opera Universe. We fixed Love Never Dies: Christine lives but was injured. They find out she's pregnant again, this time with a girl. The baby is born blind because of Christine's injury. Bells: The bell system Annalise uses was built by Erik solely for his daughter to get around the theater on Coney Island. There are trip wires everywhere that ring a bell at a certain pitch letting Annalise know which direction she going and lets Erik and Christine know where their child is. Annaliese: Annalise's nickname is Anna (think Frozen) and she looks like her father but has her mothers singing voice. She gets over whelmed very easily by all of the sounds and so stays underneath the theater on purpose. She wears a masquerade mask that Erik made her to shield her eyes from people seeing them. Horse: In our world, Erik's best friend is a horse that has a human like personality and does everything with him. We joke he even reads the paper in the morning and sews all of their clothes. Raoul and Meg: we put them together and they have like a gazillion kids.

Annalise: *is following her father around the hallways her arms are out as she tries to keep up - she stops after hearing a bark* ....*she turns and feels around - the bells stop ringing as she goes off track - she’s only seven*

Erik: *looks back over his shoulder* Anna *he calls gently more to draw her attention back on him* Anna: *doesn’t respond as she tries to find the source of the noise- she cries out as she hits a wall *another bark is heard this time louder Erik: *gasps and rushes after her* Anna? ANNA! *he smacks into a narrow corridor as he rounds the corner Anna: ...father..what’s that noise?? *another bark comes from the dark corner Erik: *pulls her to him taking step in front* stay close *he pokes his head around the corner and sighs perturbed. He’s a cat person* it’s a pest is what it is *a small dog pops out of the shadows jumping on Annalise licking her in the face* Anna: *falls backwards screaming she had never met a dog before Erik: *jerks the little thing up tossing away* Away Rat!!! Get off her! *he kneels down picking his daughter up* it’s ok it’s ok Fathers got you. You’re safe angel *hugs her* are you hurt? Dog: *whimpers it’s tail wagging as it gets back to its feet sitting in front of Erik Erik: *looks to it and takes his mask off* BOO!!!!!! Anna: *shakes her head* j-just scared me...what is it? Erik: *reluctantly put his daughter down keeping an eye on the dog* Dog: *barks happily licking his face Anna: *reaches out looking for it Erik: Don’t touch it, it’s got no sense probably sick *takes her hand* Anna: *walks with her father* it didn’t sound sick.... *behind them the dog follows Erik: trust me dear, *puts his mask back on* It is what they are. Shoo Go away I said! *flaps his cape at it Christine: *looks up as Erik and Anna enter the stage area* I’m over here dear! Anna: *lets go over her fathers hand and walks over arms out towards her mother* Christine: *hugs her tight* Erik, you have something tugging on your cloak. Dog: *growls playfully Anna: is it a monster? Father won’t tell me what it is Christine: *laughs* it’s a dog, darling. Erik: It’s a PEST!!!!! *yanks his coat out of its mouth pushing it away with his foot like it were dirty laundry* Call an exterminator Christine: you don’t call an exterminator on a dog, dearest. Besides it likes you. Erik: Yes well the feeling is less than mutual Gustave: *comes in a His face brightens up* A dog! *he holds his arms out calling to it Horse: *pokes his head out from the curtains carrying on his back more drapery for the stage. He snorts eyeing the dog indignantly* Dog: *barks happily tail wagging as it jumps licking Gustave* Erik: Gah!! Gustave no! It’s probably got fleas and other things like...teeth! Get away from him! Gustave: But he’s harmless! I’ve seen him wandering around the pier! Erik: Gustave..... I hope YOU haven’t been feeding this thing Gustave: *grins sheepishly* Christine: *walks over with Anna, holding her hand* darling have you never had a pet before? Erik: Of course I have!!! *glances to Horse who gives that grating grunting sigh only horses can muster* I mean... I have monkey and I like cats! But.... Christine don’t touch it! Christine: it’s a dog, Erik not the bubonic plague. Anna, do you want to pet the dog? Annalise: *nods* Christine: *kneels down holding out her and Anna’s hand* alright dear, let him sniff you first - he may even lick your hand *she smiles as the dog pads over and sniffs the new hands licking them* Anna: *giggles* it tickles! Erik: *winces And continually catches himself from snatching his baby up Anna: father can we keep him?? Christine: *looks up petting Anna’s dark hair* Gustave: *smiles* *this time Horse snorts insulted* Erik: What? No! It’s filthy! And and mangy. It might eat the children or my curtains. Horse: *snorts shaking his head* Christine: oh dearest stop being so melodramatic - it won’t eat the children. It may try and eat your mask or shoes but that’s it. I think it would be wonderful for the children to have a pet...*looks to Gustave* however you will be taking him out and feeding him Gustave: Like What you do to Father? Sure! *hugs the little dog* Erik: Wait! Don’t I get a say in this?? And it better not eat my shoes! *watches the children as they smile, he sighs* Christine: *stands and walks over to him* I promise, it won’t be bad Erik: *looks to her* considering you’ve put up Raoul all your life I guess it won’t be that different *he smiles to her* but it’s nice to hear them laugh *the horse nudges Christine bickering pitifully giving her puppy eyes* Christine: *turns around towards him and pets his head* oh don’t you pout as well. Just think the children won’t be tugging on your ears and tail anymore *it merely presses its head against her rubbing its neck happily on her hip* *then looks to Gustave and winks* and yes dear it’s just like taking care of your father - only it will need more sunshine to survive. Your father needs 3 hours tops or he melts. Erik: Ha ha Gustave: *laughs* Erik: So What should we name the rat thing Gustave: hmmm I don’t know, you should pick Anna *scratches its ears then he looks to his sister* Anna: *reaches out nervously to pet it - the dog moves towards her and her hand touches its head* ...Charles? Gustave: Charles it is then!! Erik: I knew a Charles once!... I think I dropped a sandbag on his head. Killed him instantly. Anna: *starts to sniffle* I named him Charles so father may like him....h-he sounds sophisticated Erik: *sighs ignoring Christine growing smirk* If you two like him... ill tolerate it. Charles does sound very... sophisticated. Christine: *leans over kissing his cheek* ..it’ll be fine, I promise Erik: *smiles and puts his arm around her* Maybe I can train it to pee on Raoul.

#poto #love never dies #love never dies spoilers #america I posted one

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bidrums · 6 years

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I saw Phantom of the Opera on Broadway a few weeks ago

My thoughts (in no particular order):

IT WAS SO FUCKING AMAZING OMG THIS IS WHAT MY LIFE HAS BEEN LEADING UP TO AND I LOVE IT OMGGGGGG

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND IT’S MY FAVORITE MUSICAL AND I LOVE IT AND MY GRANDMA LOVES IT TOO AND IT WAS AMAZING GETTING TO SEE IT WITH HER BECAUSE WE BOTH HAD SO MUCH FUN AND WERE FLIPPING OUT AT THE SAME TIME IT WAS GREAT

One of the angels in the set actually lower during the Roof and Erik climbed out form behind it. As he let out the “YOOOOOOUUUUUU” it raised up and then he got on the ramp by the chandelier and laughed while it fell and if that isn’t BDE then I have no idea what is

Also when the chandelier fell it started slowly then sped up then when I thought it’d just stop there it fucking SUNG ONTO THE STAGE AND ALMOST SLAMMED INTO CHRISTINE AND THEN JUST SPARKED ALL OVER THE PLACE WHILE EVERYONE SCREAMED AND RAN AROUND AND FROM NOW ON ALL OF THE FALLS WILL HAVE TO BE THAT TO BE ACCEPTABLE SORRY I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

Christine was tiny (came up to everyone else’s shoulders tiny) and petite and had a round face but when she sang her incredibly youthful voice was so powerful and just filled the theater and honestly that casting made me understand the whole concept of why she was so surprising after voice lessons goddamn

Raoul had a moustache and I do not stan

Carlotta was amazing and hilarious but she also had this sense of maturity and weight to her that made her terrifying because on one hand hyperbole but on the other she seemed self-aware enough to know how to get ahead by hyperbole and props to the actress for that

During Masquerade Carlotta basically wore the same ugly Star Princess outfit Christine does (don’t @ me it’s hideous on her) but it had a darker color scheme and had a black veil instead of a crown and that was interesting

The Monkey killed it as usual

Mme Giry was terrifying and yeah A+ casting

Raoul was both super restrained and off the handle like he seemed disinterested and like the actor was phoning it in but also it was like he was acting like a proper Vicomte should and was basically holding in all his emotions because otherwise he’d explode and it was terrifying

All of the actors were so subtle but also over the top like it was great and explosive and I love all of them

At the beginning of Masquerade when Andre and Firmin run into each other they both had on skeleton masks but the capes were covering their outfits. Andre kinda shrugs it back and he’s wearing a suit. Firmin pulls it back in a grand gesture and he’s wearing a FULL ON SKELETON COSTUME AND ANDRE LOOKS TAKEN ABACK AND THE AUDIENCE STARTED DYING AND HONESTLY THAT’S ME AND IT SHOULD BE MEMED

We were front row of the mez and it took a lot of convincing to get my grandma to buy those tickets but then when the chandelier rose up and it was literally at eye level she gasped and when I whispered, “I told you!” she just nodded in awe

Being so close to the chandelier meant that whenever Erik went on that ramp thing it looked like he was staring at us it was great

During Wandering child he pops out of an ivy-colored cross on a memorial and then gets on the wall surrounding the graveyard. It’s super thin and so when he does and holds onto the cross for the Drama it also looks like he’s hanging on for dear life

Thank god they showed Raoul actually running up to Christine and shaking her and yelling in her face during that scene bc the yelling from the side to have her suddenly snap out of it annoyed me. This way it shows how much control Erik actually has over her and also how desperate Raoul gets to break that control

In the same vein during Why So Silent when Erik beckons Christine forward and does the “Your chains are still mine” schtick he just holds his hand out and Christine glides forward like she’s being pulled by the Force and Raoul’s right behind her and holding her hand and looking like he’s going to cut a bitch and its great

We could see almost all of the pit (but not the percussion :( I was looking forward to that but I could only kinda see the guy on cymbals and traps)

The pit was super chill and I loved looking at them

During the Il Auto ballet when Erik would do that shadow intimidation before revealing Bouquet there was one point when he was busting out belly dancer and doing a solo flamenco and everyone just lost it

Also during the ballet the dancers were nervous and dropping things and going out of sync constantly and that was such a beautiful attention to detail

Bouquet’s body slowly fell down after the set just completely disappeared and the dancers had this thing where they turned around at different times, stared in shock for a few seconds, and then chaos happened as everyone slowly realizes it and then the managers were screaming from their box to please stay seated and Raoul almost swan dived out of the box to find Christine and Erik was laughing from the ceiling it was bomb

Raoul swan dived into the lake and part of the stage opened up and he fell on a mat with an audible thud and the entire audience gasped when he just went “YEET” and did it

At one point during Music of the Night Erik just splayed himself out on the gate in what looked like a “take me” pose then Christine was half a second away from kissing him when he seemed to even notice she was close to him and he noted to the other side of the lair so fast it was hilarious

When the mannequin showed up it didn’t look like Christine (thank God) and she was genuinely curious and amazed. When it did a curtsy thing she went ramrod straight, backed away, then fainted on the floor. Erik then ran over to her and gently put his cape on her.

When he held the last note of the song the spotlight on his was the only illumination but you could see Christine getting up and moving to the boat and I loved it

Honestly whenever it was obvious that the actors were moving around in the dark I loved it because it felt more immersive and vulnerable

GODDAMN THE FINAL LAIR SCENE

When the gate comes up Raoul just rolls under int and grabs Christine which was so smart. They spend 0.30 seconds hugging then turn to the gate so fast but it’s already going down and they try so hard to get it up but it’s useless then Raoul throws her behind him and glares at Erik and A+ characterization

When Erik lets them go he makes zero eye contact and that was great

When Christine kisses him he makes the most ridiculous pose and it added to the whole “never had a speck of affection in his life” portion

Raoul gave the most defeated groan and slumped in the noose when it happened and it was so sad

When he was let go he fell on the floor then jumped right up while still obviously recovering from strangulation and was swaying around but the Fight Me was so strong he was ready for murder and it was great

Raoul was awesome in everything but the mustache

Christine was so adorable

Like, bouncing around in giddiness during Think Of Me and d

During the “curtain call” and just anytime she got excited her face would light up and she’s bounce like she couldn’t contain her joy and I loved her

During Notes/Twisted she just backed up to the desk slowly but surely until when she says “if you don’t stop this I’ll go mad” when she just spits it out, flings the score all over the desk and floor, and the runs into the center and stands so close to Raoul’s face while yelling at him

When she realized it’s Erik about 1/3 of the way into her verse she kinda runs across stage in a panic, looks back in uncertainty, then just increases the sexy by 5000%

Erik gets super uncomfortable by in and she’s practically on top of him. She was so aggressive and sexual and obviously doing it at him on purpose and honestly that was the first time I’ve seen a Christine actually going out of her way to make him uncomfortable instead of clamming up or looking at Raoul every 5 seconds, or just acting oblivious until the end of the song. So refreshing

Piangi’s death was so much like Bouquet’s death except when the curtain closed Carlotta was running up to the managers and asking what happened in the most desperate and concerned way then let out the most soul-shattering wail when they told her Piangi was dead and it gave a feel for just how close they were

When Carlotta says “She’s mad” she sounds like she just realized it and was horrified and felt so bad for treating her horrible and also so sorry for Christine’s situation

Seriously her face fell and she just. Deflated.

When Meg said “I’ll go with you” Mme Giry yelled “NO! YOU STAY HERE!” in horror and Meg just ran out of the room without a question

When Mme Giry is giving backstory and Raoul says “deformed?” his tone is just dead but also weirdly like he pities Erik and I loved it

“Accidents?” was so confused and offended

OKAY SO THEN WE STAGE DOORED AND GOT AUTOGRAPHS

I brought my novel and got four signatures

Everyone was so sweet and said hello, even if they obviously just wanted food (we went to a matinee)

Everyone who signed my book went “is this the novel?”, looked at the cover, and said “That’s so cool!”

I agree

I got autographs from Piangi, the Monkey, Firmin and the Phantom

The girl who played the money said, “I’m the quadruple threat: I sing, dance, act, and play cymbals!” with the most self-satisfied look on her face

She played the cymbals correctly which I totally respect

Piangi had a soft and slightly high voice, which I was not prepared for

Firmin said he performed at a music festival near Dallas (where my grandma is from) and she gave an affirmative that he was talking about the right one

AND HERE’S THE BEST FUCKING PART

THIS IS A SIGN FORM THE HEAVENS AND THE MUSICAL THEATER DEITIES THAT THIS SHOW AND I ARE MEANT TO BE

SO AN UNDERSTUDY WAS PLAYING PHANTOM

HIS NAME IS GREG MILLS

HIS BIO SAID THAT HE PLAYED RAOUL IN A NATIONAL TOUR

I’VE SEEN TWO NATIONAL TOUR SHOWS BEFORE GOING TO BROADWAY

WHEN HE SIGNED I MENTIONED THAT THIS WAS MY FIRST LIVE BROADWAY SHOW AND THAT WE CENTERED THE WHOLE TRIP AROUND IT

HE ASKED WHERE WE’RE FROM

WE TOLD HIM

HE SAYS OH I DID A NATIONAL TOUR AS RAOUL IN HOUSTON

I ASKED WAS IT THE 2015 ONE (BECAUSE THAT WAS THE MOST RECENT ONE)

HE SAID NO IT WAS EARLIER THEN MUTTERS SOME DATES IT COULD’VE BEEN AROUND

EVENTUALLY HE SAYS YEAH IT WAS 2008

AND I ALMOST SCREAMED

AND I TOLD HIM THAT WAS THE FIRST TIME I EVER SAW PHANTOM OF THE OPERA EVER

AND HE LOOKS AT ME TRYING TO CALCULATE MY MENTAL AGE BC I’M OBVIOUSLY REALLY YOUNG AND SO I TELL HIM HOW OLD I AM AND HE JUST KINDA MUTTERS “God I feel old” AND I SAY SORRY

BUT THEN HE SAYS HE’S GLAD I LIKED THAT SHOW BC I OBVIOUSLY LIKED IT ENOUGH TO SEE IT AGAIN

I TOLD HIM HE WAS GREAT AS RAOUL AND YES I DID ENJOY IT VERY MUCH

THEN AS WE WENT BACK TO OUR HOTEL MY GRANDMA AND I LOOKED AT EACH OTHER AND I JUST KINDA SQUEALED “He was in the first show I saw!!!!” AND SQUEEZED MY GRANDMA

SHE SAID THAT WAS AWESOME AND I AGREE

I’M GONNA BE SCREAMING THIS UNTIL THE DAY I DIE

IF ANYONE WONDERS WHY PHANTOM IS BROADWAY’S LONGEST-RUNNING SHOW WHEN PERFECTLY GOOD MUSICALS ARE UNJUSTLY GETTING AXED DOWN RIGHT AND LEFT

THIS IS REASON ENOUGH FOR IT TO STAY ON BROADWAY

JUST FUCKING

HE WAS IN THE FIRST PHANTOM I EVER SAW AND THEN IN THE FIRST PHANTOM I SAW ON BROADWAY

THIS IS FATE

THIS IS A SIGN

OMG I SERIOUSLY CAN’T EVEN ASIUHGILUSHDFOISDNRTLAU;VTOIUSRIOT;NVS;ODIUARODGHJ;S

And this concludes my thought on Phantom of the Opera on Broadway

#Phantom of the Opera #phantom #erik #raoul #christine #phantom of the opera broadway #broadway #musicals #I can't even #I'm in love #this is a sign #this is fate #I can die happy now #thank you god for this opportunity #good shit right here

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100lbsofsalt · 7 years

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Hello yes I literally cannot sleep right now because I’m upset as hell, why am I upset? Because Erik fucking deserved better.

“Ah but he’s a serial killer that lied to and manipulated a young girl” yes, this is technically true, but sit the fuck down, buckle up, and let me rant.

Now, of course all of this varies from movie to play to book but for the sake of my argument we’re gonna go with my unpopular opinion fave i.e. the 2004 adaptation of the movie (which will likely be where a lot of people will have seen it so SHUSH).

Now, the movie boops around in time a lot but for arguments sake we’re gonna follow Erik’s life chronologically.

Let’s start off with we little bb Erik, shall we? Now, a lot of his history is only hinted at, and I’m going to try to keep my own headcanons out of this as much as I can manage, but how about how his own mother couldn’t bear to look at him.

“A face which earned a mother’s fear and loathing, a Mask, my first unfeeling scrap of clothing”

Would it be wrong to assume that that means that even before momma Destler changes her infant son’s diaper she has to cover his face because she’s too disgusted to look at him. Or how about the fact it’s likely he came from an impoverished family (let’s be real those weren’t the best of times okay it’s a safe assumption he wasn’t a one percenter), and he likely didn’t have any real clothes (ahem, his burlap sack pants in the Gypsy scene?) but his mother hated his face so much she was willing to buy him a mask just to cover it? And how did he wind up with the gypsies in the first place, hmmmmm???

The movie really doesn’t say that so we’re gonna leave you to figure that out, NO HEADCANONS FROM ME TODAY FRIEND (I have so many. About this whole movie. Please come talk to me I’m very lonely.)

Now, onto the gypsy’s themselves. Can we just. Erik was what, seven? Eight? In that scene? Maybe younger? And they were brutally beating him while hundreds (Thousands, it’s not like this is the only show he’s been used as an attraction at) of people laughed at his pain. I mean. Is it hard to see why he has such a fucked up sense of morality when he spent his childhood seeing all those people laugh at his agony. And the MONKEY TOY I WANNA DIE. Okay okay. Anyway. They appear to be using a long tail bull whip which HURT okay? Those are not for people (or anything but this isn’t the post for that). Those will rip you to shreds. Now, I’m not a whip expert so I DON’T WANT ANYONE COMIN’ UP IN HERE LIKE NO ITS ___ WHIP AND ITS ____ BITCH THEY’RE W H I P P I N G A YOUNG C H I L D I DON’T CARE IF IT’S MADE OF COTTON CANDY AND RAINBOWS. Like honestly are we gonna blame him for murdering that piece of shit? For real I would have killed him for the creepy tongue thing alone and Erik suffered years of abuse at his hand, keep in mind, we only saw ONE part of ONE show, WHERE HE WASN’T EVEN STRUGGLING REALLY, we have no idea what they did to that poor boy at other shows, behind the scenes, etc. And again. That monkey toy. I wanna die.

Now, on to his living situation (here’s where we’re gonna boop around a little, we’re gonna ignore Christine’s existence a little longer). He lived, by himself, in the sewers (call them catacombs if you want they’re fucking sad gross places either way I don’t care). He was a kid, locked away from anyone else. So let’s think about this. He learned that he’s so terrible even his mother can’t love him just because of his face, he was beaten to shit and laughed at to make money because he’s so terrible, just because of his face, he watched a shit load of people laugh at his pain without trying to help (until Giry and even she only helped after he did the hard part), and then he’s locked away, alone, in a creepyass, wet, dongeon. I mean. Would you be holding it together? I sure as fuck wouldn’t. And yeah I’m sure Giry visited him and whatever but how often do you really think she went down there? She was studying to be a ballerina at a world famous opera house, she didn’t have free time, and still that’s only one person making face to face contact with him for what? 15 years? A long ass time regardless.

And now we boop to Christine. Again this part isn’t really shown, but with “whenever I’d come down here alone, to light a candle for my father”, are you willing to agree that when young Erik saw her, by herself, having little to no experience of kindness out of other people, really reached out to be malicious? He was probably scared out of his fucking mind, but he saw this little girl grieving as he’d grieved his own life, and he decided to try to comfort her. She was probably the one that came up with the Angel Of Music thing (I say probably because it’s never explicitly said, but come on, there’s no way he would have randomly come up with that, you can also listen to Emmy talk about her “latching on” because she wanted so desperately for it to be a Thing and that they really were good friends etc but I’m just gonna stick to stuff you can get directly from the movie) and he went with it. Now, there are a ton of reasons he could have gone with it (“Learn to see to find the man behind the monster this repulsive carcass who seems a beast but secretly yearns for heaven secretly, secretly dreams of beauty”..........) but none are directly stated so I’ll fuck off and let you decide.

Now, he taught her to sing. Ask any artist ever and they’ll tell you if they’re sharing their work with you they’re sharing a very intimate part of themselves with you. It doesn’t matter the style, art is personal, and he cared enough about this girl to not only show her his art but to teach it to her.* I cannot fathom that love okay and all of this from a creature who was born into a world of hate and darkness and here he is creating beauty and sharing his work I love him okay. And yes, he falls in love with her. I’m not gonna share my thoughts on that love (She was the first person to treat him like a human, to be his friend and never once did she judge him for his looks, just keep that in mind.) but he falls in love with her, more on that in a little bit.

* No One Would Listen isn’t technically in the movie so I’m not saying anything about it, but a lot of my opinions are solidified in it, so if you Haven’t heard it you need to it’s a beautiful song sung to the tune of Learn to be Lonely which Minnie SLAYS jesus shit *aggressively heart eyes* but it directly says that he wanted to share his art and teach the wold but she was the only one who listened

As for torturing Carlotta……………. I mean, me too, I can’t fault him for that……

THEIR MEETING. TIME OUT. THE MIRROR SCENE. THE CHOREOGRAPHY. THE SMOKE. THE CHANGE FROM ANGEL TO PHANTOM. THIS SCENE IS ENTIRELY MY AESTHETIC. Okay I’m good sorry. So. They go down to his home. He takes this girl. Into his HOME. He’s been mistreated his whole life and he willingly leads this girl down into his sanctuary. Think about that for a minute.

Okay. Anyway, yes the wedding dress is hella creepy but LISTEN. He wasn’t raised with people. He’s stuck in the opera house, he doesn’t see real relationships and even if he does he only sees bits and pieces of them out of the people WHILE THEY’RE THERE he’s never seen or heard about or learned about a real proposal, he’s only seen countless operas, and you know what the fuck happens in romantic plays/operas/movies/musicals/books/stories/literally anything? They move fast, they skip time, they’re over the top. People don’t watch shit that’s real life, no one would want to see that, but that’S ALL HE KNOWS. I’ll let you think of it what you will, but I think he was genuinely trying to woo her as best he knew how.

Mask off scene. Okay. Now. Aside from the fact Gerard grabs the wrong side of his face at one point, (seriously, go rewatch it) Erik does shove Christine, which is not okay buuuuut he’s fucking terrified, and I’m not convinced he meant to shove her, more get her away from him before she saw his face. (we also get some insight on his view of himself and I. Want. To. Die.) but I’ll leave you to take what you will from that scene.

*sigh* killing Joseph is the next thing I want to touch on and this is the one where I want to boop his deformed little nose a little but… I mean… I have a couple points still.

One: the dude was a creep

two: he went looking for him

three: ERIK WARNED THEM IN NO UNCERTAIN TERMS “A disaster beyond your imagination will occur” (can we talk about the dolls. Erik. Fucking nerd.)

Four: Joseph openly mocked and taunted Erik (you think he didn’t hear that no nose comment *sassy finger snap*)

Five: He grew up only knowing violence. People laughed at his pain. Again his only real knowledge is opera and again people kill in those to get what they want? He’s just a wee potato trying his best.

Now let me bash my son for a moment, he was getting what he wanted, Christine was gonna play the countess, but instead we got All I Ask of You and I died inside (There may be another rant on my utter hatred of Raoul to come but this is already 1.5k words and I’m only like halfway through the movie so MOVING ON)

Alright, so All I Ask of You Reprise is technically the next place where Erik says/does anything but let’s talk about what’s happening right in front of him right now. He’s in love with this woman. He has tried his fucking hardest, he’s made her famous, he’s tried to woo her, he’s been there for YEARS, then this rich boy with a pretty face comes in and she’s falling into his arms in no time? Like yes it’s a bit fuckboi of him but also take into account what she said about him before the actual song. (“His eyes will find us there those eyes that burn” “I can’t escape from him I never will” “his world of unending night to the world where the daylight dissolves into darkness” “Can I ever escape from that face so distorted deformed it was hardly a face”) I mean… I’d be fucking hurt and pissed… So yeah the “you will curse the day you did not do all that the phantom asked of you” is a bit much but… HE’S PISSED and hurt and heartbroken.

Why So Silent and the ring I’m going to leave at he’s fucking hurt but yes I want to boop his nose for that one too… like Erik stop being a creep no one’s chains are yours.

As well as Journey to the Cemetery and Wandering Child like here he’s wrong and I have no argument against him being wrong, my only comment is that he could have killed the taxi driver but he just knocked him out so like… Yay?

Don Juan… Okay come on he knew it was a trap so he had to have just trusted she wouldn’t go through with it but… *Sigh* SON STOP KILLING PEOPLE. AND NO KIDNAPPING TEENAGE GIRLS.

Okay but Down Once More we get to see a lot of the stuff I’ve already mentioned (his mom, how he feels about himself, etc) and he’s furious and scared and hurt and embarrassed and he’s a cornered animal at this point. His home is gone, he knows that, he has to leave and this is his last chance to get the only person who’s ever heard him, who’s ever been a friend to him and shared his love of music, to come with him. Point of No Return Reprise is another thing I want to boop him for, but he does let them go, and he does give up and let her choose what she wants to be happy with one last ditch effort of just being honest (“Christine I love you”) and then he watches them go. The only person he has in the world, leaving him back in his world of darkness.

So, in conclusion, ERIK IS A SMOL PRECIOUS BEAN WHO DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER AND YES HE MADE MISTAKES BUT HE’S DOING HIS BEST AND PEOPLE ARE FAR TOO MEAN TO HIM I HOPE HE KNOWS HOW MUCH I LOVE HIM

#phantom of the opera #I was way too upset about this #I typed this entire thing at 2 am what am I doing #erik destler #raoul de chagny #christine daae #my son #I love him so much

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changeling-fae · 7 years

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Paper Melody

So this is the first chapter of my Phantom of the Opera fic which was basically written out of spite because of Love Never Dies.

I get really angry when I think of how PotO’s ending was broken into shards of glass in LND’s plot, namely with what ALW did to our three main characters (and Meg).

This is not a E/C (although I do ship them) and instead focuses on Erik’s ability to grow and find love elsewhere since his lesson in PotO was putting Christine’s happiness above his own. Christine and Raoul will play big parts in later chapters because they deserve happiness too dammit.

Really my biggest grievance with LND’s is that Erik wasn’t allowed to grow as a character or person when that sort of was the big deal of the finale of PotO. My other major grievance was that Christine and Raoul weren’t allowed happiness when that’s what they fought for (also screw ALW for fridging female characters for male characters man pain).

I’ll admit, I’m really nervous about publishing this because I’ve never written an OC for an already existing story and don’t know how it’ll be received. I’m totally open to comments or questions though! The PotO 25th are the trio I envision for this.

So here it is.

And Ao3 link here.

The Phantom had assumed he would fade from the world, a lost broken soul in the same vein of his title, an echo of something long since dead. Christine Daae had left with her lover, the Vicomte, and he let her go, her happiness more important than his loneliness and despair.

He thought about just ending it all, killing himself and letting his corpse rot on the cold cobblestone for the rats to eat. He came close several times, after all what did he have to live for? Christine was forever out of his life and his music was nothing but a hollow echo in his mind.

He wanted to end it and yet, instead he found himself in England, assuming the identity of a reclusive noble who happened to share the same first name. He was now Erik Fontaine, a wealthy Frenchman who lost his family in a fire and was the only survivor as a boy. The man was then not seen for nearly twenty years and had committed suicide recently unbeknownst to the rest of the world thanks to the few underground connections the Phantom took pains to keep.

It was then easy enough to forge signatures, pay the right undertakers, and with the money he had been saving from extorting the Opera House, was able to buy a modest estate outside of London. He should just end it all but instead he’ll let himself fade quietly into obscurity.

He hired only one servant, an old blind man who spoke very little named Oliver, and very rarely saw the man.

Erik caressed the keys of the piano in front of him but he could not bring himself to play anything. In all his years of loneliness he could conjure some form of music but now it was too painful, memories of Christine always at the forefront of his mind. Still, he persisted an attempt every day with little success or worse, he’d sometimes find himself singing Think of Me like some curse that he could not escape.

The mask concealing his face was black now and he only wore it on the rare times he stepped outside, despite his property being fairly isolated. There was one other estate across the way, separated by a long old graveyard that used to share two long dead families. Perhaps a walk through the silent stone garden would inspire something…

He adjusted his mask and grabbed his cloak, stepping foot into the dreary grey of day. He had lived so long under the Opera House that even the cold grey sky seemed too bright but he continued forward into the graveyard, death and solitude at least something familiar.

Stone angels with serene expressions stared down at him as he passed by, triggering memories he’d sooner like to forget. Lost in his own thoughts he was startled when he turned a corner and came upon a young woman sitting on the steps of a mausoleum.

Long, blonde, loose curls sat around her face in disarray, as if it had once been done up but instead had been torn from its confines to lay wildly without order. Her skin was fair and her cheeks rosy from the cold air as her hands nimbly worked on paper flowers, unaware of his presence.

He would almost mistake her for a servant girl or lower with how undone her appearance was, her sleeves were pushed high up and there were tears in her stockings, she wasn’t even wearing a corset, but the clothing’s quality was too high and her skin too fair to be anything but upper class.

As if finally sensing she was no longer alone, her eyes shot up directly into his, revealing a soft grey-ish green like a lunar moth’s wing, and she leapt to her feet, scattering her flowers to the ground. She looked like she was hesitating to leave them but still she darted away before he could say or do anything.

She ran in the direction of the other estate and after a few moments of waiting to see if she would return, he stepped to her scattered flowers. He picked them up, noting they were nothing but wormwoods and marigolds in design, a rather strange combination.

He gently placed them back on the grave in case she returned for them and headed back to his own home.

He ate supper in solitude as he had for decades, the only difference now being he had Oliver lurking there in the background but he hadn't really hired the man for his conversation. He then retired to his library hoping maybe something would draw his interest but every book he picked up was just filled with lines without meaning to him.

After hours of suffocating silence and hurtful memories, he went to sleep and once again had a fitful slumber as his nightmares haunted him, filled with Christine and that fateful night he let her go. He awoke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath, the side of his deformed features burning from memory of his rejection.

Erik glanced out the window, the soft rays of a cold morning seeping in, filling the room with little warmth.

He really should just end it.

But once again as the day progressed and no music formed from his hands, he found himself in the graveyard again.

When he approached the spot the girl had been in earlier, he noted the flowers were gone and instead a wooden figurine was in its place.

Curiosity had him step closer, the figurine appeared to be a beautifully handcrafted angel holding a bouquet of white clovers, sycamore, and spiderwort, each petal carved with great detail.

Once again it was a strange flower combination but he could not deny the craftsmanship, even the painting over the wood was done with gentle loving care.

The irony that it was in the shape of an angel did not escape him but he was standing in a grave so it was hardly out of place.

He set it back down, having a feeling it was the girl who placed it here and assumed she was leaving it for a deceased love one.

At least he thought that originally, until he found it at the entrance of the grave on his side, facing his estate the next day.

Curious. Why give this to him? She had seemed startled and frightened when he came upon her those two days ago. Perhaps she was merely a bored noble who thought it a fun game.

Well he was done with games and tricks and shadows, he would return this back to where she originally placed it.

He did not expect her to be there, once again sitting in her spot with her disheveled appearance and once again making flowers out of paper.

He stood there awkwardly with it in his hands before clearing his throat to gain her attention.

She did not acknowledge him and he now spoke, "Mademoiselle, is this yours?"

She stopped briefly and pushed a red paper carnation to him before resuming her work. Not once did she look up but her heel was now tapping against the stone ledge she was sitting on.

He frowned, " Mademoiselle, I'd rather not play games, will you take this back?"

Once again she stopped, only this time to push a yellow paper carnation in his direction.

Maybe she was simple?

Before he could decide what to do next with the strange girl she stood up and approached him, her eyes fluttering in various directions but never directly at his face, and she handed him a paper bouquet of garden daisies.

He took it in surprise and she quietly walked away back to her estate, a bit of a skip to her step leaving him confused and a little intrigued.

It was this strange exchange sparking his curiosity, that had him returning the next day and the following day after that; finding her a welcome distraction from his grief although he knew better now than to get attached. It was merely curiosity that brought him back each day where he would find her sitting with her false flowers.

Sometimes he would try and ask her questions but she never responded except to sometimes give him her flowers. Most of the time it was just him standing awkwardly in her presence while she worked but he got the strange sense that she liked him being there. He didn't even know her name.

The irony that he was no longer the mysterious figure did not escape him and after a week and a half of this exchange he decided to call upon her estate.

It was a horrible idea that could easily backfire on him if he was not careful but a fellow noble who was the victim of a tragedy was a story other nobles could tolerate, as opposed to the reality of a deformed man being born with a defect to a poor woman on the streets.

His mask was black and nondescript and he himself a master at charm and deflection, this just being another role for him to play. It was a bad idea but he could pull it off, he just wanted to know who she was.

He approached the servant at the door with a nod of his head and the lie on his tongue, "I am Erik Fontaine, I sent a note this morning, I live across the way and wanted to finally introduce myself. Is the Lord or Lady of the House here?"

The servant nodded and let him inside, "Yes, the Lady Charlotte Hyde is always welcoming of guests, I shall let her know of your arrival. One moment please."

Lady Charlotte Hyde? Was that her name?

He did not have to wait long and was soon led into a sitting room where an elderly woman sat. She was clearly a woman of great wealth and standing but obviously not the mysterious girl he hoped to see.

The aged woman smiled while her grey eyes darted to his mask a couple of times, and she stood to curtsy as he took her hand with a bow in greeting.

"Mr. Fontaine, is it? It is a pleasure to finally meet our new neighbor. I had sent a footman to call upon you when you first moved in but I believe your butler stated you were not one for company."

He had a vague recollection of that but he didn't show it, instead smiling with an apologetic bow.

"A crime of my nature that I'm trying to fix actually. I apologize if I caused any offense, my move from France has simply been a long one."

She sat down and gestured for him to do the same with a wave, "Oh I took no offense, I'm merely surprised and delighted that you decided to pay us a visit."

"Us, Madame?" He inquired.

"She means us, good sir." Two more men entered, a portly man with a red face and a younger man with chiseled features, easily considered handsome and uncomfortably reminded him too much of Raoul.

Lady Hyde motioned to them, "My late husband’s brother-in-law, Charles Moore and his nephew, Henry Whitman."

They all stood and bowed to each other before sitting.

Maybe the girl was a servant after all but before he could ask he felt the young man's uncomfortable stare at his mask. He turned to stare back, his features set in an amiable expression, his brown eyes fixed on the man’s blue.

Henry grinned with a swagger and tapped his own face, "Headed to a masquerade my friend? I know the French can be a bit theatrical but I can tell you that the English are a bit duller than that."

"Do not be rude Henry," Lady Hyde scolded.

Erik just simply smiled as if it didn't bother him, "While I'll not disagree with you on the assessment of my countrymen, I'm afraid this mask has tragedy attached to it, you see my house perished in a fire when I was a boy and I was the only survivor. This mask is to keep everyone's sensibilities in place I'm afraid, my friend."

Emphasis was put on the last words as the lie came easily and Henry merely quirked a brow.

Lady Hyde spoke up, "Oh you poor man, what an awful tragedy. Well you are most welcome here should you desire company or the latest news from the city. I hardly leave thanks to my health so I always welcome gossip from these two."

Henry scoffed, "It's not only your health that keeps you here."

Lady Hyde sighed but did not dispute it, "You know she cannot handle outside society, she is delicate."

This time Charles spoke with an unamused snort, "Delicate is not the word I would use for her."

Erik cleared his throat, "It is not my business but is there another in the house?" Was it her?

Lady Hyde looked like she just remembered he was still here and cleared her own throat, "Hm, yes. My granddaughter Lilian Walden, she has lived with me since my daughter and son-in-law died over a decade ago."

"And she's a bit of a loon." Henry joked, not at all deterred by Lady Hyde's scolding yet resigned expression.

She then turned to a maid, "Will you fetch Lilian and Mrs. Foster please."

A few moments passed until the girl was walked out with a middle-aged woman (who uncomfortably reminded him of Madame Giry), holding her in place by the shoulders.

It really was his mystery girl and yet he couldn't help but note how uncomfortable she appeared before them, she was actually wearing a corset for one thing and her hair was done up tightly but every time she reached to pick at it, the woman behind her forced her hands down.

Mrs. Foster forced her to curtsy when he stood to greet her and the girl, Lilian, made a small noise of protest, the first sound he’s ever heard from her.

Lilian didn't look at anyone in the room and her eyes darted everywhere like a dragonfly as she kept reaching up to mess with her hair or scratch at her corset, only to be thwarted by Mrs. Foster's hands. She looked like a trapped animal wanting to flee even if it meant chewing off her own foot.

Lady Hyde's voice was gentle, "Lily, this is our new neighbor Mr. Erik Fontaine, can you say hello to him?"

Lilian didn't say a word, just clenched and unclenched her hands in an attempt not to pick at herself. He noticed her hands were covered in splinters and paper cuts, some new and some old.

Still, he gave another small bow, "It is a pleasure, Mademoiselle."

Silence.

"Oh, come now, girl! Surely after all these years you can at least manage a hello?" Charles’ voice boomed out.

Lilian flinched at the sudden loud sound and Erik felt such a wave of pity for the nervous creature in front of him that he regretted coming here and putting her through this.

Lady Hyde sighed and gave Lilian a tired smile, "It is alright my dear, Mrs. Foster will take you back to your room now."

She immediately ran out the room, yanking herself from Mrs. Foster grasp who chased after her and once she was gone Charles shook his head, "You're wasting money with that tutor, she'll never be part of civilized society. You should just have her committed, the doctors will know what to do with her."

Erik had to bite his tongue, he knew exactly what doctors did to patients in asylums. Instead he asked a question, “It is not my business but what afflicts her?”

Lady Hyde suddenly looked even older than she did before as she sighed, “The doctors don’t quite know, although they have plenty of theories. She never speaks, not even as a child save maybe a few times when her parents were alive, even though her vocal cords are perfectly healthy…”

Charles spoke up, “Also she throws the largest fits if you touch her, she even bit me once when I touched her shoulder, right on the hand.” He gestured to said hand which has long since healed.

Henry chuckled, “And that’s only the start of it all, other children used to call her a hobgoblin when we were kids, that a witch or troll stole the real Lilian and put an imp in her place.”

“Come see the Devil’s Child,” Erik’s fist clenched on his knee.

Charles just snorted, “She’s just touched in the head is all there is to it.”

Erik kept his tone light to hide his discomfort, "Does she ever leave the house?"

Lady Hyde shook her head, "Oh heavens no, she occasionally will walk in our garden with Mrs. Foster chaperoning but being outside gives her the fits. She mostly stays in her room making her flowers and wood carvings, and other projects, that seems to keep her calm."

Well, clearly, she was sneaking out away from prying eyes, something he could relate to. It also meant she wasn't quite as simple as her family believed.

Henry grinned, "I already said, dear aunt Charlotte, that I'd marry her and take her off of your hands."

Erik didn't like that grin and Lady Hyde just shook her head, "I know you are concerned but she is fine here."

After a moment of silence Charles let out a noise of bemusement, "Such a shame a pretty girl like that was made so odd in the head."

The topics switched after that and after another hour passed he headed back home, now knowing her name but feeling uneasy about her situation, an eerie similarity to his own albeit different too.

He went to bed early that night, pretending to be sociable taxed him emotionally, and he drifted off thinking about her clenched fists and wild eyes, followed by more nightmares of him and Christine.

She was not there in their usual spot the next day or the following three days after and he wondered if she were somehow angry with him.

It actually bothered him even though he told himself he wouldn't get attached. Well, he always was bad at lying to himself but mulling over her situation meant he wasn’t thinking about Christine as much.

He stared at the carved angel which he kept in his library now and perhaps it was pure luck when his eyes darted over to the titles in his collection of books where one title stood out. He leapt up and pulled the book down, scanning it quickly, confirming his sudden suspicion. He let out a small laugh, she wasn't simple at all, she had been speaking to him in the language of flowers.

He flipped through the pages, searching for her messages that she had been giving him. Sycamores meant curiosity, she had been curious about him. The white clovers meant Think of Me and he realized she must have heard him play it at times. Spiderwort meant momentary happiness and he realized she liked his music.

The carnations were literally yes or no and the marigolds and wormwood he found when they first met was her personal message of isolation. The bouquet of garden daisies she had given him when he had tried to return the wooden angel literally meant “I share your sentiments”, she was telling him that she shared his feelings of isolation and sympathized with it.

He sat back in his seat at the revelation that she had been speaking to him this entire time, he wondered if her family knew this was how she spoke but quickly dismissed the notion when he remembered how they talked to her.

He spent that night absorbing and memorizing the book and was already formulating what to do for tomorrow. He just hoped she would appear this time.

When the time did come, he was pleased to see her once more on her perch although instead of working on her flowers, she was rocking back in forth in her seat, eyes closed as if to block out the world around her.

“Lilian?”

She opened her eyes to a single purple hyacinth that he held to her. She stared at it for a moment as all rocking ceased. There was a moment of deafening silence as he waited to see if she would accept his apology, before the largest smile broke out across her face, so bright it was almost blinding.

She took it from him and for a brief moment her eyes purposely met his before darting back down and he knew he just experienced something infinitely rare.

She got up, spinning and twirling with her flower as her joy could not be contained and he realized he might be the first person to understand her way of speaking. He stared in slight wonder, he couldn’t remember if he had ever made anyone smile like that before, Christine had sometimes smiled for his words but rarely for his actions.

After a moment more of this, she finally calmed down and quickly picked up blue paper sheets from the stack she always brought with her, sitting in her usual spot as she deftly created flowers from practically nothing.

He watched in rapt fascination as she thrummed from excitement and within minutes she had created a small bouquet of blue periwinkles and offered it to him.

He blinked and gently took them from her, she was offering him friendship. He… couldn’t say he ever had a friend before; Christine had been his protégé and object of his affection, not his friend.

He didn’t know how to respond, in all honesty he was baffled. All his life he had been treated as lesser, a freak of nature who should have been drowned at birth, leading to his decades of crippling isolation and desperation for companionship which of course lead to him killing his relationship with Christine from said desperation.

He didn’t know how to be someone’s friend.

He murders all that’s good.

He took a step back and her smile died a little.

He didn’t say anything and her smile turned sad with a quiet resignation, as if telling him she too was used to being friendless and was resigned to his refusal. He remembered her family’s actions toward her and how they spoke about her, a creature to be pitied.

He knew what that sense of isolation does to a person (really, he was a cautionary tale on the result of it) and perhaps it is with this common ground between them that he can learn how to be a friend.

His next words had her give him a curious look, “Do you play any music?”

She handed him her yellow carnation, the carnations being something she kept on her at all times, the yellow meaning ‘no’.

He smiled a bit mysteriously, like a child with a secret, “Would you like to learn?”

She looked surprised and her hand went to her throat, causing him to shake his head, “I was thinking the piano might be something you’d be suited for, your fingers are already dexterous and flexible. It’ll leave less splinters and papercuts too.” He said dryly.

She looked down at her fingers and flexed them, as if she didn’t even realize she had cuts.

Her language was soft and he had a sudden desire for everyone to hear her, if they wouldn’t listen to her flowers then he would lend her his music.

“Having no voice doesn’t mean you have to be voiceless.”

She made eye contact at that and for a moment he actually thought he saw tears form before he felt another carnation placed in his hands. This time he broke eye contact to look down to see that it was red, yes.

He smiled as he clutched it, “Excellent.” Now to convince Lady Hyde. “Tomorrow I will ask your grandmother if I can tutor you.”

And if she says no… well, he’ll find a way.

Lilian looked up at him (well his chin) and gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand with her carnation before pulling back to head back home. She turned to give him one last wave leaving him feeling a sense of excitement in a way he hadn’t felt since he first met Christine.

#Phantom of the Opera #poto #phanfic #god I'm nervous

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littlelonghairedoutlawllho · 7 years

Note

Consider: Eva 'verse, several years later, Erik is still around, and Ariane has run into the inevitable bullies. After one particularly bad encounter, she lashes out at Erik saying she hates him for giving her her face (she doesn't really, but you know how children are when they're upset.) All aboard the Feels Train! XD (Fluffy bonus: Erik-Sven gets into a fight defending his little sister, and winds up with a shiner he's a little too proud of.)

All the bullies saw coming at them was a streak of flaming red hair. Eva attacked with fists and teeth, and they got so taken up with her that they missed Erik-Sven coming beside his sister. Erik-Sven believes in the sneak approach, using Eva as cover. Both of them pick up several bruises for their trouble, and Erik-Sven gets a split lip, but the bullies learn to never say anything to Ariane again.

After, Christine tends to both of them while Erik takes care of Ariane. She rubs liniment into their bruises, and cleans up their cuts, and to cover her own worry tells them that they need to mind their hands if they want to be great musicians. Both of them have split knuckles, and instead of warning them not to fight, because she knows it would do no good and Heaven knows she would do worse damage to anyone who ever tried to hurt Erik or Ariane, she tells both of her children to kick next time instead of punch.

While this is happening, Ariane is having her meltdown. Even though her words cut deep, he does his best to settle, and holds her as she cries. When she’s all cried out, and dozing, his own tears come, and he settles her into bed, before leaving. He leaves his wedding ring on the kitchen table, Ariane’s words about hating him playing on a loop in his brain, and he goes out.

Christine finds the ring a little later, when Eva and Erik-Sven are at their books, and though she doesn’t know what Ariane said, she knows what Erik must be thinking and her heart breaks. She plasters on a smile for the children, and goes next door to see Daroga, in case he might know where Erik is.

Daroga, as it turns out, has not seen Erik at all and knows nothing about what’s happened. He promises to take care of the children while she goes to look for Erik. At first he tries to convince her to let him look for Erik, but she insists that it be her and he relents.

Christine goes to the house on the lake, knowing that of all places where Erik could go that one is the most likely. He isn’t there when she arrives, and she waits for him in the old parlour, stripped now of most of its furnishings since they moved above ground.

After a few hours of waiting and worrying, Erik arrives. He is hunched over, and exhausted, and at first doesn’t see Christine, only collapses on the couch and closes his eyes. She goes to him, and takes his hand, and eases off his mask, and as his eyes flicker open she asks him what’s wrong.

He doesn’t say anything at first, too drained to speak, but she holds him and at last he tells her all of his fears, that Ariane hates him, that they would be better off without him in their lives, that it’s his fault their daughter gets bullied and Christine should have married a better man, and how can she love him with what Ariane has gone through because of him? And through Christine’s own tears she assures him that he’s wrong, wrong about it all, that Ariane doesn’t hate him and only lashed out because she was hurt and upset, that of course *she* loves him, she always has and she always will and it’s not his fault that Ariane inherited his face when neither Eva nor Erik-Sven did.

When he’s calmed down, she takes his wedding ring from her pocket and slips it back onto his finger, and takes him home. Ariane has woken, and the three children are sitting up waiting for them with Daroga, who tried to put them to bed but Eva has inherited altogether too much of her father’s stubbornness. Ariane rushes right into her father’s arms, and everything turns out all right!

#shauna replies #eva verse #phantom stuff #rinokami

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chris--daae · 7 years

Text

So, I wrote the sequel to this:

http://chris–daae.tumblr.com/post/155274168286/hey-i-lied-i-just-wrote-a-marriedec-stuff-its

E/C as married couple, in an AU with no blackmail and much less deceiving.

“Lunch is ready, Erik.”, Christine announced. “I am not hungry right now, dear, I will eat later.”, Erik replied, not even raising his eyes from the papers where he wrote. “I finally have a day off, and I was hoping we could enjoy some time together. Are you really going to stay locked in your office all day?” Christine’s voice sounded both hurt and accusing. Erik sighed in defeat. “Just give me a minute, I am going.”

Before Erik could even take a bite of the food, Christine asked: “Are you wearing this at the table?” Erik knew that by “this”, she meant the mask. “Why not?” “It’s rude, and I like looking at my husband once in a while.” Erik let out a short laugh. “What is so funny?”, Christine asked, irritated. Erik stared at her for a moment. “What is wrong with you today, dear?” She seemed to be in a bad mood. Erik really could not think of what could have caused it. He had been behaving well, staying in his office instead of bothering her. “Nothing is wrong. This is how I am. You would know if you got out of that damn office once in a while.” Was it maybe that time of the month, Erik wondered. No, there was still a week left. Maybe her work was stressing her? “Erik, please take it off.”, Christine insisted, now with a softer voice. “I don’t like taking it off and you know it.”, Erik mumbled. Christine sighed. “Yes, I know it. Sorry.”, she looked away. “I just would like to look at you when we talk, instead of some expressionless cheap cloth.” Erik did not reply. He also would like to have a decent face to look at Christine with, but there was nothing he could do. They started eating in silence. “Meg is pregnant.”, Christine said, after a while. “That’s good for her.”, Erik replied. “She has been married for only a year and is already having a child.”, she sounded a bit jealous. Erik stopped eating. “Her husband is very loving. Meanwhile, I have been married for three years and it feels like I live with a rock.” “I am sorry if I am not as charming as a nobleman.”, Erik replied, using sarcasm to hide the hurt. “Not everything is about your face, Erik.”, Christine retorted, knowing very well it was the only thing he was thinking of. Erik lowered his head. “I am not pleasant for you in any way, right? I am not only terribly ugly, but also terrible to be around.” “That’s not what I meant.” Erik was glad that he was sitting, because he could feel his legs shaking. He knew this moment would come. He knew Christine would one day have enough. It didn’t make it any easier. “Then what exactly do you mean, dear?”, he asked the inevitable question. Could he handle it? Hearing all the reasons why she regretted the day she said “yes”? He had to. He deserved this punishment. “‘Dear’. When was the last time you said my name, Erik?” Erik took a while to understand. He didn’t even notice, that instead of calling Christine by her name, he started calling her only “dear”. Still, he didn’t know what this had to do with the disaster of their marriage. “Do you even love me?”, she asked. “I do.”, Erik replied. “Do you? Or did you just want to have a wife, like everyone else?” “I would not want a wife that I don’t love.” Wasn’t this how it worked? Or maybe making a woman his wife was so selfish, so horrible that if he truly loved Christine, he should never have wished it for her. Was it what she meant? “Really? Because sometimes I feel like you only married to tick off an item a list of whatever standart you feel that you have to fit into.” “Where did you even get this idea from?”, Erik asked, confused. He felt in the middle of a puzzle he couldn’t solve, and it felt horrible. He was confused and frustrated and he didn’t even know how to respond to her accusations, very different from the ones he imagined he would hear every day and night. “From you! I know you feel like you don’t fit, and I know that you desperately want to. And I know that this may be enough for you, but it’s not for me.”, Christine was getting teary. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I know you lived alone for a long time. I know it’s not nice to have someone suddenly disturbing your peace and your routine. I understand it.” She paused. “But I don’t like it. This is not a marriage, Erik. I could be okay with us not… touching. But there are days when we don’t even talk! You won’t look at me, you won’t say my name. This is not what a marriage is. A marriage is supposed to be about sharing. I don’t know if I am doing something wrong or if this is just not what you wanted.” Erik just looked at her, not knowing what to say. He had no idea Christine felt this way. He avoided her for her own sake, so she would have her own space and maybe even forget the terrible reality of being married to a monster like him. How could he imagine his actions were actually hurting her? It was really a situation in which she could not win. “Dear…”, the word was out before he could stop himself. And before he could say anything to fix his mistake, Christine stood up. “I will clean the kitchen.”, she said, almost running out of the room. Erik had to calm his own body, that was still shaking, before he could follow her. Christine stood by the sink, her back to the door, her head low. Erik slowly approached her, and said in a soft voice: “If I had anything good to share, you can be sure I would share it all with you.” He would always wear gloves, to spare his wife of any accidental touch with his dead-like skin. But he took them off to eat, and didn’t replace them before running to the kitchen. Slowly, giving Christine enough time to understand his intention, and pull away if she wanted to, he approached his hand to hers, and held it. Christine didn’t pull away. She welcomed the touch. “And who said you don’t?”, she asked. “I know I don’t. I am horrible. Outside and inside.”, he was quick to add. “There is nothing I could offer you.” Christine shook her head. She put her hand over his. “When we met, you would always listen to my worries and rantings. Of course, I didn’t see you so you could very well be sleeping.”, her lips curled up. “I didn’t have many friends, and I didn’t want to bother anyone with my fears and worries and sadness. But you, you listened to me, and you comforted me.” Christine paused to wipe a tear from her eyes. “There were days I could not even get up from my bed. When I met you, I was broken. I felt broken. But thanks to you, I could be whole again. You didn’t only help me find my voice, you helped me find my confidence, my determination. You gave me a reason to wake up everyday, you helped me rediscover my passion. It’s all thanks to you, Erik.” Erik was speechless. He was unused to hear praises or words of gratitude. How could he reply? “I love you.”, Christine continued. “You may be horrible, as you say, but it doesn’t change that I love you. You were my best friend when I needed it the most. And I know”, she raised her hand to his chest. “I know there is good there. I know because you let me see it, with no masks or disguises, under all these layers of coldness and bitterness, that there is the desire and the potential to make beautiful things. And I am not talking only about your art.” Erik lowered his head. He was sure that Christine could feel how fast his heart was beating, for not even in his wildest dreams he could imagine hearing such words. “I love you, Christine.”, was all he could say. But he saw the sad smile on her face. “You don’t believe me.” “Why do you love me, Erik?” “You were the first woman- no, the first person to ever show me kindness.” “Only that?”, Christine asked, suddenly pulling away. “That could have been anyone.” “It couldn’t. In all my years- and they were many- I never met anyone like you. Your soul is wonderful, Christine. So wonderful that I couldn’t even start describing it.” As she didn’t reply, he continued: “Even in your darkest time, you could still believe. Faith, and not only religious faith, is something that left me long ago. But after meeting you, I dared to hope again, I dared to believe again. To believe that things could be different, that things could be better. I was in a literal abyss before I met you, Christine. And I didn’t even know that I wanted to get out of it. I didn’t even know that I wanted to have a normal life, that I wanted to stop hiding. And you didn’t only gave me hope that I could have it, but you also gave me strength to pursue them.” Christine turned back to him, a smile fighting its way to her lips. “Do you mean it?” “Of course I do.” Erik moved his hands to each of her arms, more bolder than his last movement, but still slow enough that she could pull away if she wanted. Once again she didn’t. “I would not let just anyone come disturb my peace and my routine.” Christine chuckled, and raised her hand to his face. But as her fingers touched his mask, she pulled away, fearing she was dreaming too high. Erik noticed. He lowered his head. “The last thing I would want would be to make you uncomfortable, Christine. I know I have not been a good husband. But I thought you would rather… I mean… I didn’t want to…” He didn’t need to finish for her to understand it. “Why would I not want to be near my husband, the man that I married because I love him?” “You can love me, but still not like this. I can understand.” Christine shook her head. “I would rather be with the real you, anytime.”, she lowered her head. “But it’s okay if you don’t want to. The last thing I would want would be to make you uncomfortable.” “Just… give me some time. I am used to this. It makes me feel safe.” For Erik, showing his face was making himself vulnerable, and he hated this idea. But he would make an effort, for Christine. “Take all the time you need, dear.” They exchanged a look at the use of the word. “Just please, don’t ignore me anymore.” “Never again, dear.”, Erik said, holding his wife. For the first time, the word “wife” came to his mind without the guilty that usually accompanied it. “My dear Christine.”

#the phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera #erik #the phantom #christine daae #erikxchristine #e/c #me writes #phic

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